


Great Expectations

by itsabirditsaplaneitsmediocrefanfics



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Body Diversity, Breakups, Depressed Stan, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, F/F, F/M, Growing Up, High School, Immortal kenny, M/M, Other, Rebounds, Revenge, Senior year, Sex, Threesomes, andcanalsonotsuck, andthefacthemayormaynothavekilledher, badass Tweek, badassjimmy, bebegoeswildinagoodway, but resilient stan, butalsoplotiswear, clydehastodealwithhismom'sdeath, enamored craig, familycansuck, followingdreams, gender fluid butters, heterosexualsex, homosexualsex, kenny on a quest, mental illness does not equal weak, probably, psychic Kyle s04e01, psychic Kyle s08e13, secondchances, sexofallkinds, tokenliteratureclub, unrequitedlove, unwantedpowers, wendylearnsselfcare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 04:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsabirditsaplaneitsmediocrefanfics/pseuds/itsabirditsaplaneitsmediocrefanfics
Summary: Written as canon-based as possible, this work follows twelve of the main South Park characters as they embark the end of high school and what lies beyond. Craig, Tweek, Butters, Kenny, Kyle, Stan, Wendy, Cartman, Clyde, Bebe, Token, and Jimmy will learn about second chances, rebounds, unrequited love, breakups, following dreams, career decisions, unwanted psychic powers, revenge, self-sacrifice, standing up to family, and self-care.There are sex scenes, hence the explicit tag. It includes all combinations of genders and identities. However, it is not essential to the plot necessarily because I wanted to write some characters' experiences as non-sexual and non-romantic.There are references to drug abuse, parental abuse, and mental illness, but all are written respectfully and from real-life reference.The story is almost written to completion, so check back because I'll update often!Also, I make a lot of pop culture references, hence the chapter titles. :)





	1. The One Where Craig and Tweek Get Back Together

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of things: All characters are written with canon information in mind, but obviously, I had to fill in some gaps. Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> This chapter is a Craig, Tweek, Kenny, and Butters section, but the next chapter will be a Kyle, Stan, Cartman, and Wendy section. 
> 
> I definitely wanted to make Craig a little softer, because I think years with Tweek would make him more sassy than stoic, since I think he's pretty sassy already in the show. Also, of course I had to write musician!tweek and kickboxer!tweek, because I think that's a cool point in the show that he has anxiety, but he's still pretty bad ass. 
> 
> They both have been accepted into schools in Texas to clarify. Probably Austin, but I wanted to stay as vague about that as possible.
> 
> Butters is indeed gender fluid. I stuck with "he" as his pronoun, but if ya'll think that should change, let me know. Also, I had him have a glass eye, which is not necessarily canon, but whatever.
> 
> Kenny is flirty and sunny and humorous but also dark and powerful and determined. I don't mention Mysterion, but I definitely kept his character in mind. Kind of a two faces of the same coin kind of thing. He's still a good big brother, though <3
> 
> Usually it would be Craig-Tweek-Butters-Kenny, but I needed a longer section to introduce the whole Kenny/Butters thing, so this time it's Craig-Tweek-Butters-Kenny-Butters. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Craig had parked his car as far as he could from the school building that morning, and now he sat in it, trying to keep himself together. He knew what was coming once the final bell rang, and he wanted to be as far as possible from the nosy ass people he went to school with, most of all Stan Marsh’s group. Not because of Stan, but for a whole other reason he couldn’t think about right now.

He sighed as he leaned back, trying to follow the breathing practices he always coached Tweek through. The scent of leather and an immaculately clean car filled his nose, with an annoying tinge of coffee from all the times Tweek had accidentally spilled it on his floorboard. His heart hurt. Craig hated feeling feelings. 

He felt nervous, he felt guilty, he felt scared and sad and angry all at once, but he also felt happy, because he had admitted to himself what he had denied for six months: he couldn’t live without Tweek Tweak. However, when he heard to car door open, he only felt like he wanted to disappear.

Tweek climbed in. “Knock, knock,” he nervously joked, his voice shaky and cracking. Craig forced himself to look at Tweek. The last time they had talked, six months ago, had been when they had mutually broken up. Well, not exactly mutually - Tweek had broken up with him, so Craig had pulled out 8 years of knowledge on Tweek’s insecurities and called him every name in the book.

They had texted, twice angrily, once both drunk and sad, but Tweek was apparently really good at being an ice queen when he wanted to be. The afternoon sun was already setting in the winter sky, and it illuminated Tweek’s blonde hair burnt orange. It was pushed back with a headband like he did when he had piano lessons or at boxing practice, and he didn’t want it in his way. Craig could feel his face soften looking into Tweek’s hazel doe eyes, impossibly large in his rather too-thin face. 

“Craig,” Tweek whispered, extending a long, graceful hand and touching Craig’s cheek ever so slightly. Tweek really was beautiful, but his touch snapped Craig out of whatever spell he was in. 

“We leave for college in six months.” It’s all he could muster. All he wanted to explain.

“And?” Tweek’s expressive eyes widened. His hands immediately went to his hair. Craig could see where he had all but chewed his fingernails off. 

“And I miss you, and oh god, I love you,” Craig said with more emotion he had ever expressed in his entire life. “Oh god damn it, Tweek.” His shoulders slumped in defeat. 

Tweek turned to stare out of the windshield and sighed. “I love you, too. And I miss you. But I’m still sick, Craig, and I’m still not sure you can handle it. I’m not sure I want you to have to handle it. I don’t want us to get back together just because everyone else wants us to.” He jerked as if final proof to that statement. Tweek turned his face away sharply, and Craig realized it was because he had started to cry.

“I know it’ll be hard. But, baby, you might be batshit crazy, but at least you’re not an asshole like me.” 

Craig felt his face redden at the memory of him doubled over on the bathroom floor that night, sobbing and refusing to look at Tweek. When Tweek had been let out of the hospital one hallucination-filled fit and a concussion later, he had turned cold towards Craig. “Could you have handled that any worse, Craig?” he had said, the circles under his eyes the worst Craig had ever seen them. The memory echoed in his head. 

Tweek faced him, wiping his eyes with a too-big sleeve of an army jacket. He laughed musically. Tweek’s speaking voice might crack and shake and shriek at all times, but his laughs and his singing were smooth like bells. And his moans, Craig remembered inappropriately. 

“That’s my Craig. Always tellin’ it like it is.” His hands went from hair pulling to playing phantom piano keys ever so slightly against his thighs. “I was horrible to you. You did what you could. I just don’t want you to end up being my nurse for the rest of our lives. I pushed you away because it was easier for me to recuperate if I didn’t have to worry about driving you away, but there were a million better ways to handle this.”

Craig fought the urge to lean in and end the conversation by kissing him. He was always better at action than he was at words. “I don’t care. I don’t think you’re as weak as you think - I won’t let you be. But if I have to take care of you sometimes, than so be it, I can do that.”

They both realized these were serious words coming from high schoolers, but they had been together eight years already. In fact, their parents had many a hushed conversation about the suspicion as soon as Tweek turned 18, Craig and him would head to the courthouse, especially when they were accepted into schools in the same city. There might have not been any unplanned babies in the cards, but that didn’t stop several paternal conversations about the permanency of marriage. They didn’t know it was going to end like a nuclear bomb. Loud and damning, and then quiet and dead and cold. 

“I’ve had only one since then. Breakdowns, I mean. But my new meds are helping with you know, the mood swings … and stuff,” Tweek said, smiling bitterly. 

“I know. Your dad told me.”

“Of course he did.”

Craig was getting tired of this dance, and he realized Tweek was testing him. Either Craig was going to talk about his feelings and humble himself enough, or they weren’t getting back together. “I’m sorry I called you a brat. I’m sorry I lost my temper. I said awful fucking things when you were at your lowest, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for that. But Tweek Tweak,” Craig took his hand, “I can’t live without you.”

“Oh, Craig,” Tweek sighed, his pale face beginning to redden. “We have to take is slow. Absolutely. I don’t want pressure. No pressure.”

“No pressure. We’ll take it slow, I promise.”

“But also, we need to talk about something else.”

Craig felt his heart drop. He knew what was coming.

“Craig, I- I need to know about what happened with Kenny.”

“Oh, fuck,” Craig said, subconsciously leaning back from Tweek. “It meant nothing, baby. I thought it would make this empty feeling go away, but it didn’t. Besides, he’s all hung up on Butters.” He said the last statement with an eye roll. 

“So it meant nothing? It still doesn’t?”

“Yes, babe. I promise. You’re all I could and can think about.” Craig leaned forward again, so close he could smell the coffee on Tweek’s breath. And - was that the scent of mint gum? Bingo, Craig thought. He knew exactly how Tweek wanted this to end. 

Smoothly, in that effortless charm Craig was very aware he had, he closed the gap, catching Tweek’s thin but soft lips in his. He ran his hands through Tweek’s hair, and when he hummed, he leaned more forward, pressing Tweek against the door. Craig wasn’t sure which one was the one to open the kiss, but before he knew it, their tongues were crashing together. His hands tightened in Tweek’s hair, and Tweek’s hands found their way up Craig’s shirt. His fingers traced his chest, and Craig shivered.

Just as Craig was very aware his jeans were getting too tight in the front, Tweek broke away with a gasp. “Slow, Craig,” he breathlessly whispered. “We have to go slow.”

_________________________________________________________________________

Tweek slumped against the back wall behind Tweek Coffee Co., lighting a cigarette surprisingly smoothly despite having the shakes. He had burnt himself enough times now to know better. Everyone always assumed it would be the bad boy Craig who would be the one to smoke, but no, Craig was too logical for that. Tweek was the one who had put much worse things in his body.

“You’ll ruin that beautiful voice of yours,” everyone always said, but Tweek thought that was stupid. A lot of singers smoked. 

His phone buzzed in his apron pocket, and he pulled it out, illuminating his face in the darkness. 

Craig <3 (Tweek had added the heart back in that afternoon actually): I’m excited about Friday, babe

Tweek smiled. How long had it taken Craig to muster the courage to send that?

Text: I am, too <3 So did you tell your parents the good news?

Tweek knew it seemed like he was the reluctant one in all this, but really, he was over the moon. He had practically sang the news to his parents he and Craig were back together, holding a serving tray closely to his chest in excitement. They had been ecstatic. 

He just had to keep it together, that was all. He sighed and took a drag. That was a sobering thought. 

Tweek had struck a deal with Craig. They needed to go on as many traditional dates as they could in the next couple of days. In public, forced conversation, and all the formality. The first one was Friday, where they were going to go to City Wok and then maybe they’d walk to Stark’s Pond, like they did in middle school.

Craig would show up smelling like cologne that made Tweek’s knees weak, sans Chullo hat, in clean, straight jeans, and a leather jacket. His black hair, swept forward stylishly, would still be damp from a shower, and his green-grey eyes would soften as soon as he saw Tweek.

And Tweek would wear his rather tight black sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and his skinny jeans that emphasized the curve of his hips, and pull his hair halfway back, looking ever so slightly feminine, because he was very aware Craig was into that. He’d be everything soft and pretty and sophisticated that Kenny McCormick was not.

Tweek put his cigarette out against the wall and tossed it into the dumpster. Planning always made him feel more stable. Tweek Tweak may be a nervous mess, but damn if he if he wasn’t fast on his feet, always one step ahead of the next punch.

___________________________________________________________________________

Butters physically bent into himself at the emotional blow. He sat on the couch in his living room, the lights suddenly too bright and the couch too soft. 

“After everything we’ve done for you, this is how you thank us. By being a weirdo. We’ve given you chance after chance to straighten up.” Butters’s dad pointed an angry finger at him too close, and Butters flinched embarrassingly. 

“I can’t even look at you,” his mother said, waving the offending paper for emphasis. 

The sight of it gave Butters courage. “But this is what I’m good at, mom and dad. It doesn’t make me weird. Was Gene Kelly weird? Justin Timberlake, Patrick Swayze…” 

“Leopold!” His father said it so loud and sharp Butters yelped. “I don’t want to hear anymore about this. How are you going to put food on the table? How are you going to pay your way through the school? And Butters, a dancer? Are you some sort of…”

At that Butters stood up. “Don’t you dare,” he said his sweet, round face cast into something frightening. 

And then black.

___________________________________________________________________________

It came quick this time, a small mercy of that day. Kenny welcomed it with wide arms and soaked in the horrified faces of his friends. He didn’t enjoy their pain of course, but it was nice to know he was missed after his deaths. Cartman looked bored, as usual, the unspoken assumption between them he knew Kenny would be back the next day, un-impaled. Kyle and Stan, though… 

Maybe Kenny wished he really didn’t have to see it. It was another reminder he could never be what Butters or Karen needed. 

The branch fell so smoothly through his chest, right through the heart. Instant darkness. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Butters laid in the fetal position, his eye throbbing. Why did he have to aim for the eye, he thought bitterly, as he looked at the bubbles forming around his glass one soaking in a cup of salt water next to his bed. Not lost to the irony, Butters picked up his phone - well, more like an iPod Pip had lent him that he kept hidden from his parents as a sort of “burner phone” - and with slight hesitation, sent a text through the messaging app. 

To: Kenny

Hey

Delete.

Hey, buddy!

Delete.

Hey, my dad almost finished your job and took my other eye out.

Kenny would appreciate that. Send.

He laid his phone down on his pillow quickly, face down, trying to hold his breath. Maybe Kenny would reply. He sometimes did. Most of the times he would be drunk or high from smoking weed, and he’d beg for him, always saying he never quite felt human until he was in Butters’s arms. 

Sometimes they would just make polite chit chat with terse, awkward texts. Butters would avoid any mention of abuse, and Kenny would always be the one to drop off. Butters knew it was because some girl in tacky jean shorts was probably blowing him. Not that the thought of that particularly bothered him.

Sometimes Kenny would tap on Butters’s window, somehow finding his way up to the second level of the roof, and Butters would let him in. They’d play out all the emotion behind a locked door, with Kenny’s name on Butters’s lips, and Kenny whispering that Butters was just oh so flexible, and it felt oh so good, didn’t it, baby? It was a hot and sweaty dance, and Butters could do it until the end of time.

A lot of the times, though, Butters would be left on read. That had happened pretty consistently the last month or two. They were certainly friendly at school and social things, but Kenny’s obvious flirting and teasing had stopped. 

He heard a slight tapping. “Oh, dang it,” he whispered, whipping his glass eye out of the cup, wiping it off on his shirt, and popping it back in, blinking a couple of times for good measure. His heart thudded so loud he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. 

Sure enough there was Kenny behind the window. Usually he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, but this time he looked concerned and much older than he really was. 

Butters opened the window, and Kenny slid in. Without missing a beat, he reached up and traced Butters’s now-black good eye. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I know you have much worse things to worry about. I shouldn’t bother you.” Butters voice was small.

Butters looked up at Kenny. Kenny was almost giving Craig Tucker a run in the height department, and he was thin from malnourishment but muscled from being the active person he was. His skin was tan from the sun, and fine, white scars marked it like art. His shaggy, sunshine blond hair, sweet, blue almond eyes, and infectious smile betrayed his optimistic, can-do attitude, though. Tonight, though, he looked pale and worn. Butters couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“You look like death warmed over, pal. Are you okay?” Butters put his hands on his hips.

He didn’t expect Kenny to laugh, and he shushed him. “Do you want my dad to hear you and kill you?” Kenny just laughed harder, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Butterscup, baby, what’s up? Are you okay? That’s quite the shiner.” He pulled Butters into his lap, and suddenly Butters was a little self-conscious about his chubbiness. He might have great control over his body, but he didn’t seem to be able to lose weight very easily. Kenny stroked his thumb around the frame of Butters’s face. “I have the right mind to wake him up and make him pay for this.” Kenny’s voice suddenly had an edge to it Butters didn’t like.

“Ken, don’t say stuff like that,” he reprimanded. “Besides, I have some good news. I think.”

Kenny’s face lit back up. “Oh? What is it?” He pulled Butters closer.

“The school in New York accepted me. They said my audition tape was amazing, and that my roles in the school productions were impressive.” Butters said this breathlessly. He and Tweek Tweak used to be rather competitive when it came to singing, but in the end they had to agree they had different styles and apples and oranges and all that. But no one, no one, could sing a power ballad like Butters Stotch. Tweek had nothing on his dance ability, anyway. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Kenny’s full, rough lips on his own. It was chaste and sweet. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Butters blushed. “Yeah, but the problem is my mom found the letter before I did.” He reached up and touched his black eye. 

“Butters, you’re not going to let them stop you, right? After going through all the trouble of the audition tape and the application and the references, baby, you can’t let this slip by.”

Butters was quiet, his fingers pressed up against his lips. Kenny sighed and rested his head on Butters shoulder.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, uncharacteristically whispering. “I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you.”

Butters was silent. He had a strict “if you can’t say nothing nice, don’t say anything at all” policy.

“Butterscup, I… I’m no good for you.” Kenny didn’t break his gaze on Butters.

Butters shook his head. “No, Ken.. I wouldn’t have had the courage to even apply to this place if it weren’t for you. And listen, you make good enough grades. I can tutor you and help you apply to colleges.”

Kenny laughed. “And what would I do?”

“Social work, maybe.” Kenny looked at Butters like he had lost his little cherubic mind. “No, really,” Butters insisted. “You could help kids like Karen. You could make a real difference, Ken.”

Kenny still looked at him like he was a penny short of a dollar. This just seemed to spur Butters on.

“You’re so kind, Kenny, and warm. No wonder people gravitate towards you. These children would be lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you.” Butters stopped, suddenly aware of what he as saying. Kenny’s eyes widened, and then softened. “I mean, I don’t have you of course, but I just meant…”

The ceiling whirled as Kenny flipped Butters on the bed and kissed him, much longer than the first one. At first it was loving and romantic and silver screen-worthy, but then it turned into hot and filthy. Butters moaned as Kenny snapped his hips up to his, and Butters could feel how hard he already was. 

“Ken,” he sputtered as Kenny pulled down his pajama pants, and Butters numbly realized his dick was completely exposed now, maybe on the shorter side, but thick, he liked to think. He didn’t have time to think too much about it because Kenny took the whole thing in his mouth in one motion. Butters back arched, and he bit his fist. Kenny’s mouth was warm and the way he drug his tongue up and down his dick made Butters wonder how he got so good at this. “Ken, we have to lock the door,” he feverishly whispered.

“Why?” Kenny said shortly, after sliding Butters dick out of his mouth in a way that made Butters uncharacteristically mutter “oh fuck”. 

“Because what if they hear us, and they come in, and…” Butters trailed off, not keen to focus on the thought of his parents as he was getting blown. 

“Fuck them,” Kenny said around his dick. “I fucking dare them to try and stop us.”

“But you don’t understand, they’ll kill you.” Butters whined at the loss of sensation as Kenny stopped.

“I don’t fucking care, Butters. You’re 18, I’m 18, and I’m going to fuck your brains out tonight, and no one can do a damn thing about it,” Kenny fiercely said, flipping Butters over.

Butters didn’t think he could get any harder. He heard the quiet thump of Kenny shedding his clothing (he couldn’t see him out of the corner of his left eye for obvious reasons), and gasped at the feeling of Kenny sliding his dick against his thigh. He bucked back.

“Oh, baby, no, not yet. I don’t want to hurt you. At least not that bad” 

Kenny slid a finger suddenly into him, and Butters threw back his head and whimpered at the sudden pleasure and pain. He liked the discomfort that came with his dry, long fingers inside of him.

With deft and ease, Kenny found his sweet spot, and Butters swore he saw lights flashing in the dark. The feeling of pleasure made his toes curl and his heart thump.

“Baby, tell me you want it,” Kenny whispered in his ear, brushing Butters bangs out of his eyes, bending over him. He leaned over to Butters bedside table, picking up the innocuous tub of Vaseline.

“I want it. So bad. Please, Ken, please!”

“What is it that you want?” Kenny asked mischievously.

Butters face flushed. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Say it louder,” Kenny dared.

Butters was too far gone to care. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Oh god, yes!” Kenny slid halfway into him. Butters dick was dripping with pre-cum despite the initial discomfort, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t last long. 

“Perfect, baby. Now arch your back. There you go. You really are beautiful, you know?”

Butters blushed at the sudden compliment. He liked it when Kenny told him he was pretty and beautiful and sometimes Butters even wore heels for him. Butters just didn’t feel the need to always stay within the rigid lines of gender. His thoughts were cut short, though, as Kenny slid his entire dick in him.

They both moaned together. Kenny had a big dick, and Butters wasn’t a big person. It filled him up in the best way, and it pressed against that spot. He threw his head back, feeling the warmth in his stomach. Pretty easily he balanced himself on one hand and started jacking himself off in time with Kenny’s thrusts. 

“Oh, baby, are you going to come for me?” He grabbed Butters hair, pulling him back so he could see his face. “I wanna see your pretty little face when you come all over yourself.”

That did Butters in, and in a whimper, he came all over his hand and his thighs and the sheets. He heard Kenny exhale, and he pushed him in the mattress, on top of his mess - Butters guessed he would have to do laundry later - and took him hard. Butters whimpered at the sensitivity of his body after orgasm. 

Kenny came with a “oh shit, Butters”, and took his time filling Butters with his cum.

They collapsed on the bed, and Kenny smiled at Butters, every bit of roguish and handsome he could have imagined. Butters blinked at him sleepily. “... Will you wait until I’m asleep to leave?” he asked softly.

“Sure, baby.”

It didn’t take long for Kenny to watch Butters close his beautiful blue eyes, his long eyelashes making him look like some sort of doll. As he watched him sleep, Stan and Kyle’s horrified faces flashed in Kenny’s mind. 

He was in too fucking deep.


	2. The One Where Kyle Makes Things Explode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes: I realize Stan is a shitty friend, and his behavior towards Kyle is unhealthy. That's the point, though - alcohol makes good people horrible. That being said, there's a lot of references to alcoholism in this next part, so if it makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this one!
> 
> For anyone not from America or who may not know what this is: An ASPCA (American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) officer is basically an animal rights cop. Usually they are actual police officers, but it varies state to state. Whenever someone leaves their animal out in freezing temps or there's reports of starved animals, they're usually the ones who confiscate the animals and make the arrests. 
> 
> Also, for those who may not be familiar with reporter slang, j-school is short for journalism school.
> 
> The next one will be a Clyde-Bebe-Token-Jimmy section!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading <3 please let me know if you have any suggestions!

Kyle sat on the edge of his bed, his knees to his chest. He stared emptily at the shattered glass on his bedroom carpet, too numb at the moment to worry about cleaning it up.

The last hour played back in his head. The overpowering smell of whiskey on Stan, the anger in his face, and the fear when Kyle managed to make another light bulb explode. 

“What the fuck are you?!” he had shouted so loud Kyle’s mom had started coming up the stairs. 

“Go, just go,” Kyle had said, physically pushing Stan out the door. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Stan growled. Really, he was a different person when he had been drinking.

Kyle didn’t know what to do anymore. They were, well, super best friends, and even though there had been some distance for awhile, they stuck by each other. They were like brothers, despite the ever-increasing fights and tension.

Stan had started drinking early on in life, and Kyle felt a pang of guilt he hadn’t noticed how bad it had gotten until it was too late. He guessed it had all started when they were around 10, and Stan had started to act strangely around everyone. It seemed like he had a complaint about everything - nothing made him happy anymore. 

Then his parents got divorced briefly and, Kyle remembered shamefully, he had abandoned Stan. For Cartman of all people. 

His phone buzzed from underneath the bed covers. 

Stan: I’m sorry. I love you

Kyle sighed, feeling his temper bubble up again. He pushed it back down. He couldn’t afford to fix his phone screen again. 

Don’t say things you don’t mean, Kyle texted, angry at himself for the way his stomach flipped when Stan told him he loved him. They had said it to each other more times then they could count over the years, always platonically, but more and more it had left Kyle with a weird, empty feeling in his stomach. 

He rubbed his eyes. Damn, it was like they were a couple. Kyle felt they might as well be since he and Wendy pretty much tag teamed in keeping Stan together. Wendy and Stan had broken up for the millionth time a couple of months ago, but he could tell she still felt responsibility for him.

It was the disappointment Kyle thought was the worst part. Stan would sober up after he did something that pushed Kyle and Wendy to their limits, but inevitably fall off the wagon as soon as things went back to normal. 

Once it was when they were sophomores in high school, and Kyle had this nagging feeling deep in his stomach something was wrong. He couldn’t shake it, and like he was on autopilot, he found himself at Stan’s back door, letting himself into the house. Bypassing a confused Randy without a word. Climbing up the stairs. Hurry, hurry, something had said to him. Kyle got to Stan in time to knock the pills out of his hand.

He had never cried so hard in his life, sitting on Stan’s floor, his hands wrapped so tight around Stan’s wrists, it bruised him. 

Another time was when he had lost his temper and told Stan one day he and Wendy would leave him to rot in South Park. He had shouted that he would become a civil rights lawyer, and Wendy would become the journalist she always wanted to be, but Stan would drink himself to death. Kyle told him he wasn’t even worth the dirt they’d bury him in. 

Kyle didn’t know what Stan intended to do, but he had lurched forward, enraged. Kenny had caught him behind the arms and whispered something indecipherable fiercely in Stan’s ears that made him shrink back.

After each time, Stan would sober up for a couple of weeks. He’d be the glittering star quarterback he always was, with his all-American good looks. He’d talk being an ASPCA officer after graduation and volunteer at the animal shelter with Kyle. He’d joke around, and they’d go on adventures just like before. But, eventually, he’d start drinking again. 

Kyle shook his head. He had just applied to several pre-law programs, and right now he should be a nervous wreck about that. 

Or maybe he should figure out why things exploded when he was mad, or why he knew Kenny’s phone was going to buzz before it actually did. Everytime it happened Kyle’s face would go pale, but Kenny would just laugh in his devil-may-care nature. 

“Don’t worry,” he always said, something behind his eyes Kyle couldn’t decipher. “We’re all a little kooky in this town.”

__________________________________________________________________________

Stan had tried to keep it together as he passed Mrs. Broflovski on the staircase. He thought she might’ve called his name, but he couldn’t force himself to stop. Everything was a tumbling blur, and somehow, pushing bile down his throat, he found himself crumpled on his own bedroom floor.

He looked at his phone.

From: Kyle

Don’t say things you don’t mean.

Stan knew Kyle was in love with him, even if he didn’t realize it himself. He knew he couldn’t keep dragging Kyle along like this.

Speaking of love, Wendy had texted him during the garbage fire that was his afternoon.

From: Wendy

Hey do you want to study for our science exam tomorrow after school?

Somehow, something as simple as a study session was overwhelming to Stan. There was some dark, anxious feeling tugging at his soul, threatening to suck him into endless despair. 

He remembered a party he went to about at the beginning of the school year. Well, okay, he didn’t exactly remember it, but there was one memory crystal clear. Tweek Tweak, pale and pissed about something and stupidly mixing his psych meds with alcohol, had stopped him on the way out after a very public and humiliating screaming match with Wendy.

“You can’t escape it, you know? You eventually have to get help for yourself, or it’s the end, man. They’ll start to resent you one day. Believe me, I know.” The way he had slurred it pissed Stan off, and he had shoved Tweek into the door frame with a thud. He vaguely remembered Tweek yelp, and Jimmy’s voice uncharacteristically furious yelling at him from the front porch.

Fuck them all. What did they know?

He brought his attention back to Wendy’s text. This was her trying to push him into normalcy. 

Sure. sounds like a plan, he texted back, barely able to keep up the energy to make it make any sense. 

His eyes felt heavy, and lying on the carpet, he just couldn’t force himself up. So Stan stayed there until he drifted, sleeping off his drunkness.

____________________________________________________________________________

Wendy knew something had gone down the night before when Kyle had stopped her in the hallway to tell her he wouldn’t be making it to the study group that day. He was a good liar, and his sharp brown eyes portrayed not the slightest hint of emotion. 

But Wendy could tell.

“What did he do this time?” she asked.

His face under his green hat turned a stark contrasting shade of red. “We were supposed to hang out and play Bloodbourne, but he was wasted.” It hurt Wendy to see him so sad. 

“Kyle,” Wendy said, her voice sharp and commanding as it always was. She grabbed him at his elbows. Wendy had never noticed how tiny Kyle kind of was. How he was one of South Park’s best basketball players, she would never know. Maybe he was so short and fast he was able to slip by?

“Kyle, we can’t go on like this. I found out last night I got into the J-school I wanted. Wait-” she said, cutting off his congratulations. “I’m cutting Stan off. He’s not the boy I fell in love with. And Kyle, he’s not the same boy you fell in love with either.” She turned on her heel and walked away. 

She could feel his stare into her back. She didn’t care if he knew she knew. Everyone knew. And she knew the entire town thought Kyle was the one that was going to fix Stan. Because, like Craig and Tweek and Bebe and Clyde, they were meant for each other, right? Wendy wasn’t so sure, though. 

Besides, Wendy had better things to think about now. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Cartman looked around at the lunch table. Kyle was engrossed in a book, while Stan played on his phone. Both were silent, and even Cartman could sense the thick air between them. 

Kenny was staring off into the distance. Cartman turned around, tracing Kenny’s eyeline. There sat Butters, fruity and annoying as hell, laughing it up with the British kid.

“God dammit, Kenny. Stop staring at Butters.”

“Fuck off, Cartman,” Kenny mumbled, breaking his gaze. He cleared his throat. “So, Kyle, have you heard back from any schools yet?”

“Two, actually,” Kyle said, perking up. Cartman rolled his eyes. “It just depends on which one gives me the best ride.”

“And how about you, sunshine?” Kenny asked towards Stan.

He distractedly glanced up. “Mmm, I’ve applied to a couple of places, but nothing looks that great. It all seems like a waste of money and time.”

Kyle began to say something, but Cartman cut him off. “As much as I would like to see you two have another lovers’ quarrel, why don’t you ask me what I’m doing, Kenny?”

“Oh, I already know. Living off your mom until they have to cut you out of the mattress.” Kyle and Stan laughed, and Cartman felt his face go red. 

“Screw you, guys. I’m leaving,” Cartman said, standing up. 

Deep inside, though, he worried Kenny was right.


	3. The One With The Weird Wuthering Heights Reference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know booknerd!Token isn't canon, but come on, he's the best. 
> 
> This one is short, so I'm going to upload the next chapter very soon (it'll be a Craig-Tweek-Butters-Kenny chapter). It's full of Creek drama and Kenny being a cute big brother. 
> 
> For those here for the smut, I promise there is more to come. 
> 
> Plz comment if you wish or inbox me, if you feel like you have thoughts to share! Thanks for reading <3

Clyde stumbled through the front door, his body sore from practice. He tossed his backpack on the couch, making his way to the kitchen.

He stopped in the doorway, audibly sighing. Dirty dishes stacked high on the counters, and the floor was… sticky? And what was that awful smell?

Ever since his older sister had moved out - she had been an adult nearly when their mom died, so she had moved back in to help their dad - the house had been a wreck. Clyde was a latch key kid of the worst kind, left to fend for himself day in and day out while his dad worked long hours at the shoe shop.

Not that he harbored any grudge towards ol’ Pops. He did his best. Clyde didn’t know how his dad was going to handle himself when Clyde moved out the next fall. Especially since everything was his fault. His dad was saint for loving Clyde as much as he did.

Clyde hadn’t told his dad, but he got accepted into the school in Denver he really wanted to go to for phys ed. He’d be a P.E. teacher or a coach or something, which okay, didn’t seem like the loftiest of goals, but it’s what made Clyde happy. And he already had seen how short life can be.

He knew his dad would support him 100%, but who would support his dad?

Earlier that day, Bebe had sunnily kissed him on the cheek. “You need to tell him. He’ll be so happy. Clyde, your mom would’ve been so happy.”

Clyde had, of course, cried, burying his face into her long, blonde curly hair. 

What did he do to deserve Bebe?

She was even going to the same school and to be an education major, too! They’d be the cute young couple at some school somewhere - Mrs. Donovan, the pretty and kind math teacher, and him, the friendly P.E. teacher. Maybe she’d even let him do her on her desk. 

His daydream was broken as his ass hit the floor hard from slipping on a puddle. “God damn it,” he muttered. 

When he stood up, his eyes met the photo of his mom that hung on the kitchen wall. She looked and acted nothing like Bebe. She had short, brown hair, and rough features, and even smiling in the photograph, she looked like she was about to scold someone. 

Clyde could faintly remember the Dutch accent that would come out in his mother’s voice when she was reprimanding him. 

His eyes brimmed with tears. Clyde didn’t remember that day very well, but he could never forget the empty, pale face of his mom, staring at him glassily through eyes that couldn’t see anymore. 

Had it been he didn’t wipe up the water from his shower, and she slipped and hit her head? Or was it he left the blow dryer plugged in and too close to the tub when she was in the bath? He thought he remembered her being sucked into the toilet, but his therapist told him that was just his childhood brain filling in blanks. 

Whichever way it was, Clyde knew for certain it was his fault. He had killed his mother.

And Clyde, with tears in his eyes, turned to the sink, slipping on the dish gloves. He deserved to be sad. 

____________________________________________________________________________

“I don’t know, guys,” Bebe said, twirling a strand of hair in her fingers. “It’s not that I don’t love him. I really do. But it seems so dreary to already know exactly how my life will be.”

Red nodded sympathetically. “Girl, you’re gonna have to make the decision quick.”

“There’s no use on hanging on to something that’s already gone. Token and I are so glad we broke up when we did. That’s how we stayed such good friends,” Nicole said wisely.

Bebe grinned at Nicole. “But yeah, you and Token have always been the more mature couple.”

Nicole shrugged and continued to her homework.

“What if I… want to date girls? I like girls,” Bebe said confidently. She was never ashamed of who she was. She left that shit in middle school, when she realized that big tits did not equal small brain. “What if I want to chop off my hair and dye it brown? Or blue? Clyde would freak!” She sighed, lying back into the grass, letting the sun warm her. “What if I don’t want to be a middle school math teacher? What if I want to be a professor one day?” Her voice was gradually getting louder. 

“Then, do it,” said a very deep voice she was certain didn’t belong to Nicole or Red. 

She sat up. “Oh, hi, Token!”

He sat next to her, with the most sophisticated grace anyone had ever sat down in grass with. “You know Clyde’s my brother, but I know he gets caught up in sentimentality and emotions. If you don’t talk to him, resentment will build, I’m telling you.”

“And oh, will it,” came another deep and bored voice. Craig Tucker sat down on the stone ledge, with Tweek surprisingly next to him. Bebe threw an arm around Tweek, giving him a questioning look. Tweek smile and nodded. 

“Oh, great, so all of you know? You guys can’t tell him. This has to be done delicately. Besides, it’s not like we have to break up. We just need to talk about it.” Bebe gave them her best warning look.

“Well, Token is too kind to do that. Tweek is faithful to you. And honestly, I don’t give enough of a damn,” Craig said lazily. 

“Well, good. This is something only I can do.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Token stood on the moor, the chilly English air a stark contrast in the sun. He watched as a young brunette girl, ruddy-faced and breathless, laughed at the joke of a much darker boy next to her. He seemed happy, and the couple seemed natural, even though she was dressed rather finely, and he was in rougher clothing.

Token knew, though, this was only temporary. The young girl was long dead, according to her nanny telling the tale, and the young boy had grown into an evil man, driven mad by her death. The scene was just about to change when -

He got up off the bed, putting Wuthering Heights down. His mother continued knocking raptly. 

“Son, did you not hear me? Dinner is ready.”

Token found himself sitting at the nice oak table, his mind still amongst Heathcliff and Catherine’s childhood. His father cleared his throat.

“Today I talked to Dr. Roberts about that med school recommendation,” his father said, his deep, booming voice demanding attention. Token called it his “courtroom voice”.

Token didn’t know what to say. “Yes, sir.”

“I know you’ll have four years of pre-med, but it’s never too early think about med school. Truthfully, I’d rather you choose Vanderbilt, but the choice is yours. There are many fine schools, and there’s no reason for you not to get into all of them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Black looked up at his son pointedly. “Son, is there something you’re not telling us?”

Token couldn’t lie, so he didn’t say anything. He pushed his peas around with his fork like he did as a child.

“Token, your father is speaking to you.” His mother put a soft hand over his non-pea-pushing hand. “Honey, you know we just want what’s best for you, right?”

“We want what’ll make you happy,” his father said. 

Token felt small. He’d do anything not to disappoint his parents. They did everything for him, and even in the end, they were supportive and caring. 

Token stood up abruptly. “Mom, dad, if it’s okay, I’m going upstairs to read.”

“That’s fine, son,” his mother said quietly. 

____________________________________________________________________________

“We sho-sho-should be roommates!” Jimmy exclaimed, grinning at Butters. 

“Oh, I don’t know, buddy. I’m not sure I’m going to even go.” Butters seemed dejected, leaning forward on his desk.

“Oh - oh, come on! Can’t you see it now? “Butt-Butters Stotch, Broadway star, in lights, and the next ni-night, Jimmy Val-Val-Valmer, famous comedian.”

“Timmy!” Timmy exclaimed next to them in excitement. 

“An-and you’ll get in fr-free of course,” Jimmy said, nudging Timmy’s chair with his elbow. 

“Leopold Stotch,” Butters corrected. “Or maybe Leo Stotch?” He tilted his head in that sweet way of his. 

“Be-besides, my parents will feel be-better knowing I have a friend there,” Jimmy confided. Even though he had all the faith in the world in himself, he knew there were limitations, and his parents were right to worry. But he also knew he was damn funny, and the world needed more laughs. 

“Is Nancy not planning on coming with you?”

“No, ma-man. You know how she is. She’s ni-nice, but not amb-ambitious enough,” Jimmy shrugged.

“Timmy,” Timmy groaned, eye roll not needed. 

“Co-come on, man. We’ll take NYC by sto-storm. Just don’t cramp my style with the la-ladies, okay?” Jimmy winked.  
_________________________________________________


	4. The One Where Kenny Decides to Kill Cthulhu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or The One Where it'sabirdit'saplaneit'smediocrefanfics realizes they don't know how to spell "Cthulhu".
> 
> This is a Craig-Tweek-Butters-Kenny section.
> 
> The next one will rotate back around to Kyle-Stan-Wendy-Cartman, where the Style (?) plot will thicken like gravy, Eric Cartman will be Eric Cartman, and it'll be clearer what Wendy is going through. 
> 
> Also, I know Kenny shows up in like, almost every section, but he's kind of a common denominator in all this. 
> 
> As usual, plz comment if you have any suggestions! Thanks for reading!

There were a lot of things about Tweek Craig liked that had nothing to do with physical attributes. His spunk despite his anxiety, his unwavering loyalty to his friends and family, and the way he seemed to bring out emotions Craig didn’t even know he had, just to name a few.

But Craig also thought Tweek was super hot. There were two kinds of Tweek Craig especially found attractive.

There was artistic Tweek, his long hands gracefully playing the piano. His voice clear and kind of breathy, he looked like an angel in the spotlight. He was pure and otherworldly. These times Craig wanted to gently lift him up on the piano and make him feel beautiful. He wanted to hear that breathy voice some more and show Tweek just how much he loves him. 

Then there was kick boxing Tweek, beating the shit out of other people in the ring. He was small, but he was quick and precise. His slipping and blocking were second to none, and Craig didn’t know how on earth someone could be so graceful and effective. And then he’d jab, hard and sharp, and only a few rounds, and more often than not, his opponent would be on the ground. 

The referee would lift up Tweek’s arm in victory, and Tweek would stare out into the crowd. Chest heaving and lips a little bloody, he looked like some sort of animal until he’d find Craig in the mass of people, and then smile sweetly, like he had just played some love ballad for Craig. 

Craig felt a whole different kind of arousal, and this was one of those times. 

He hid back in the empty, unfamiliar locker room. Tweek’s match was in a nearby high school, and all the other boxers had since gotten their things together and left. 

Slow had been the name of the game with them since they decided to get back together, and that meant no messing around whatsoever. Craig’s balls had never been so blue.

“Hey, Craig,” Tweek chirped, entering the locker room entrance. He had pulled a white T-shirt over his bare chest, and it was already soaked in sweat.

“How’s my champion?” Craig asked, leaning down to give him a quick kiss.

Tweek dodged him. “I’m bloody,” he laughed self-consciously. 

“You’re beautiful.” Craig grabbed him by the hips quickly, pulling him close. 

Tweek looked up from underneath his eyelashes in a way that made Craig feel suddenly very weak. “I forgot watching me fight makes you horny.” It was a hard secret to keep. Some of their best sex was after matches, in strange locker rooms.

It was kind of gross, but Craig liked it before Tweek had showered, all bloody and sweaty. It was always rough, and there was always a lot of biting and scratching and smacking. Craig thought about the time Tweek had taken Craig’s hand and had drawn it up to his throat. “Come on, baby,” he had whined. “Choke me.”

Something lurched at Craig at that memory, and he swiftly caught Tweek in a kiss. This was tentative of course, since their physical contact had been purposefully limited. Tweek kissed back if only for a second and then pulled away. 

“I don’t think right now is the right time,” he sighed, heading towards the shower. 

“When is going to be the right time?” Craig asked irritated and immediately regretted it. He’d never pressure Tweek into having sex with him, and honestly, his irritation wasn’t about the sex. He just wanted them to be normal again.

Tweek had been friendly and loving, but there was still that awkward air between them. Craig felt like Tweek’s insistence on slowness was a manifestation of his uncertainty with getting back with him.

“Don’t pressure me, Craig,” Tweek snapped. 

Craig sighed dejectedly. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, babe. I’m just worried, I guess. … Worried that you aren’t sure about your decision to take me back.” He felt a bit of pride. He had been working on his communication.

“So I have to have sex with you to prove I love you?” Tweek asked in a mixture of hurt and anger, crossing his arms in front of him.

“Well, no, but damn it, I keep waiting you to fucking ghost me again.”

“Oh, well, if I do, I guess you can just run back to Kenny, huh? You know, really, I’m kind of offended you don’t have better taste.” Tweek regretted it as soon as he saw Craig’s face go pale.

“I.. I .. I told you. It wasn’t like that.”

Tweek stared at him, not sure what to say. He began to shake.

“I’ll be in the car,” Craig said, quietly, his face back to an impassive mask. 

___________________________________________________________________________

Tweek had been quiet and sullen the entire car ride. He focused hard on not shaking, but he knew it was in vain. He knew he looked all the mess he was to Craig, who at one point reached over to put his hand on Tweek’s knee.

When they got to Tweek’s house, Craig quietly asked the next time he was free.

“I don’t know, man. My parents want me working at the shop the next few days,” he said with finality, grabbing his bag from the floorboard and slamming the car door before Craig could respond. 

Once he managed to get through the front door, he let out a long and shaky breath. Why’d he always have to fuck everything up?

He went into the kitchen, tears already swimming in his eyes. Tweek made a pot of coffee, trying to concentrate on the smell, the sound of it, the way the water hit the bottom of the glass. It was a technique his therapist had taught him.

He stumbled up the stairs. He had showered in the locker room and changed his clothes, so without hesitation, he fell into his bed. His chest felt tight. Craig was going to hate him again. He was going to drive Craig right back into Kenny’s arms, wasn’t he?

His irrational fears expanded into new real estate. What if he wasn’t stable enough to handle college? He was a big fish in a small pond right now. There had to be tons of more talented musicians at the conservatory school - what if he didn’t have enough talent to match up?

What if he dropped out and had to work at that coffee shop for the rest of his life? He could see it now, watching Craig the scientist, the next Elon Musk or whatever, with some blonde, vest wearing magazine model next to him, giving a speech on TV while Tweek mopped the floors. 

He tried to close his eyes and focus on meditation. Tweek was a somewhat practicing Buddhist, something Craig would good naturedly tease him about. They really were opposites. 

It didn’t work. He ran to the bathroom and threw up. The bathroom floor was cold and comforting, and he laid there, gasping for breath. His eyes focused on the razor on the edge of the tub, and for one dark minute he thought he could just end this all right now, but he snapped out of it almost as quickly as the thought came.

With every shallow breath, he felt darkness encroaching on his vision and the room spin. His parents were at the shop, and he was scared he couldn’t stop this on his own. His phone - where was his phone? 

His hand didn’t even feel or look like his hand as it reached in his back pocket and pulled out his cracked and bent phone. He managed to call Craig.

“Hello?” Craig asked, sleepily. How much time had passed?

“I’m sorry,” gasped Tweek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-” All he could do was gasp at this point, his heart rate too fast for him to stand. He leaned up again to puke.

Not again, he thought. I can’t do this again. 

He tried to stand up, but everything was still dim and dizzy. His legs didn’t even feel attached to his body. So Tweek laid there until he thought he heard someone come up the stairs. 

Best case scenario, it was his mom or dad. Worst case scenario, it was a robber. But no, the bathroom door opened, and Craig scooped him up in his arms. 

He was wearing his pajamas - really, how long had Tweek been on the bathroom floor?

“Baby, baby, it’s okay.”

Tweek began to cry again. “You hate me!”

“Never.”

Tweek suddenly became aware of the mess he looked. He realized he didn’t even flush his vomit down. 

“Why are you with me?”

“Because I love you.”

Tweek felt his heart slow down, but he knew this wasn’t going away on its own. 

“Have you taken your medicine today?” Craig asked. “We can cuddle on the bed while you meditate and watch Sailor Moon.”

It was like he read Tweek’s mind, but he didn’t have the energy to respond. He just ran his finger tips down Craig’s cheek while he cried. 

____________________________________________________________________________

“One, two, three, four,” Butters said, under his breath, the warm lights of the studio illuminating him in the mirrors. The song finished, and so did he with a flourish.

“Bravo!” Pip clapped from the corner of the room. 

“That was amazing, Butters!” Scott joined. 

The senior show was going to be here before they all knew it, so Butters had roped Pip and Scott into evaluating his first couple of run throughs of some of the numbers. He’d be auditioning soon, and he had his eye on the top part of Riff, leader of the Jets. 

Maybe Butters wasn’t gang leader material, but that was his job, right? To make the unbelievable believable?

Butters put his hands on his hips and took a good, long look at himself in the mirrors. He was chubby and short, sure, but that didn’t mean anything. He was healthy and had stamina to make it through routines and that’s all that mattered to him. He had a sweet countenance with round cheeks and a smile almost too big for his face. He liked to think he had a cute nose. Butters eyes were bright and blue, and sometimes he let Bebe put makeup on him. He thought the way she picked out the colors really brought out his eyes. 

Well, eye, really, but you couldn’t tell. In fact, he wasn’t sure most people knew it was a glass eye. He touched where he had covered the bruised one with makeup (the only time his parents didn’t complain about that kind of stuff). Butters thought he did a pretty good job. Butters also thought he had way too much practice. 

“So, guys! Notes?” he said, striding to his backpack. 

He could always trust Pip to have helpful criticism, but Scott tended to give straight compliments, not that Butters minded. 

He didn’t hear their response, though, as his stomach fell, and he started to feel sick.

Picking up his phone, the screen became fuzzy. 

6 missed calls from dad

____________________________________________________________________________

“And then Trish told me Ike had called me ugly, so I had to talk to him about it after school,” Karen said, hands on her hips.

Kenny nodded, fighting back a smile. In his hand was a suspension notice letter from the middle school.

“So, Karen, at what point did this lead to a week of suspension?” Kenny cocked his eyebrow at her. 

“Well, um, he said it was true, so I… punched him.” She looked down, guilty.

He was going to have to apologize to Kyle about this later. “Karen, what are you going to do when mom and dad find out?”

Kevin made a humming noise as he entered the kitchen with its peeling wallpaper and cracked linoleum floors. 

“You guys can’t tell them!” Karen shouted desperately. “Who knows what they’ll do?” She started to cry.

Kenny immediately lurched forwards to hug her while Kevin soothed her with a “hey, now”. 

“You know we won’t tell them. You’re lucky, though, that it’s in school and not out of school suspension.” Kenny held her in front of him, trying to pull off his most serious look. “Don’t do this again. Kevin and I won’t always be here to protect you.”

All three of them knew that was a lie. Kevin had graduated high school, a proud accomplishment in the McCormick family, and had become a respected mechanic. He stayed around to keep an eye on Karen. 

Kenny had an idea what lay ahead of him in the spring. Kenny was going to find Cthulhu and break this curse. Then he was going to come back and give Karen the life she deserved. 

And maybe Butters, too, but Kenny honestly thought Butters would move on by then. Maybe it’d be some dark and moody actress or another bright and shining boy, but he hoped they would be a better match for Butters. He tried not to dwell on it. 

But first, Kenny had to focus on killing Cthulhu. And the last thing he needed to do was drag Karen or Butters into the middle of it.


	5. The One Where Kyle Does the Big Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a Kyle-Stan-Wendy-Cartman chapter, so the next one will be a Clyde-Bebe-Token-Jimmy chapter! I'll upload it a lot sooner than this one.
> 
> Let me know if you have any thoughts or suggestions! Thanks for reading as always <3

Kyle couldn’t keep from bouncing his leg from under his desk. Being distracted in College Trig (taught by the community college to advanced high schoolers for early college credit) was probably not the best idea, even for Kyle, but his mind was spinning with thoughts, and he could never keep still when he was worked up like this.

He heard Craig swear at him from under his breath, eyeing him in the neighboring seat. Bebe flicked him in the back. Okay, maybe he should stop.

His mind continued racing, though. Was he in love with Stan? Was he gay? Could he be gay? He definitely liked girls, he knew that. 

Kyle remembered when Clyde had insensitively asked Butters if he was gay. “I like people, Clyde. It depends on the person,” he had said simply. “Some people are gay and some people are straight and some people are nothing at all, and some people just like people they have connections with.”

Kyle glanced at Craig like a gazelle getting too close to a lion. Craig was muscular and broad and entirely masculine. He wasn’t soft and pretty like Tweek, or like Butters when he wanted to be. Kyle thought he could think of Craig as handsome, but he couldn’t think beyond that. He wasn’t sure he could think about being intimate with him.

Kyle looked back at his painfully blank Trig notes. Everyone had always joked about him and Stan being a couple, but was there any truth to that? He thought about kissing Stan. He’d have to stand on his tiptoes, but Stan would take him in his strong arms with that boyish charm and kiss him warm and deep.

Oh shit, Kyle thought. 

There was no good outcome to this. If he was in love with Stan, he could end up losing his best friend. If Stan managed somehow to love him, too, which Kyle wasn’t sure his sexuality was as fluid as his, then that’d be a wreck, too. 

As much as he may love him, Stan would be a shit boyfriend. 

Boyfriend? Kyle’s stomach twisted at the thought. 

But what if Kyle could fill that space in between them? Maybe it’s what Stan needed. Kyle could be the one to truly make him happy.

Man, that was a fucked up idea. 

Like a gun shot, the bell went off above him. He shrieked, immediately turning red as everyone turned to look at him.

Craig groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, shut up, Craig. You should be used to that shit by now,” Kyle snipped.

____________________________________________________________________________

Stan was painfully sober. Or at least sober enough. 

Kyle stood in front of him with his arms crossed, looking every bit like his mother. Well, kind of. They had the same nose, sharp brown eyes, and flaming red hair, but Kyle’s cheek bones were much higher and his lips much fuller. And he was tiny. 

“I’m sorry. I know we were supposed to hang out, and I was drunk, and I’m sorry,” Stan said. “But man, everything is shit. You don’t understand.”

He really wasn’t an asshole - he just got wrapped up in his own bullshit sometimes. 

Kyle covered his face with his hands. “How much longer, Stan?”

“... How much longer, what?”

“How much longer are you going to put me through this?”

Stan felt something light up in his stomach, angry and sour. “No one is asking you to stay.”

Kyle slowly brought his hands down from his face. Stan thought his prominent eyebrows would be knit together in anger like they usually were when they got like this. Or maybe his brown eyes would go white and empty and something would shatter. 

But no, this time, Kyle was crying.

“Hey, man , I didn’t mean it.” Stan hugged him, not thinking twice about their dwelling anger. Kyle was his super best friend.

“Stan.” His voice was sharp and demanding albeit shaky.

Stan pulled away from the hug, searching his best friend’s face. “What?”

Kyle closed the gap, tilting his head and throwing his arms around Stan’s shoulders, pulling him in deep and sudden. 

Kyle was kissing him.

____________________________________________________________________________

Wendy glanced at the clock - yes, a real live clock, because if she had her phone at her desk it would distract her. It was 1 a.m., and her eyes felt dry and heavy. She’d have to be back up at 7 for school.

But she couldn’t go to sleep yet. She had just now finished her advanced placement English essay - about the Flint crisis, of course - which she thought was a feat because she had only gotten off of work at the library around 7 that evening, and she had finished her science research project on top of that. Now, she had to prepare for the student council meeting she had tomorrow… well, today, she guessed. 

Wendy was a mystery to her friends. She was the Hermione Granger of South Park, without the convenience of the spinny thing that stopped time? Teleported her? Let her be in two places at once? Wendy didn’t know — she didn’t have time for pleasure reading. 

Her phone buzzed from her night stand. Who was texting her at 1 in the morning?

She got up, her knees popping. Wendy made a mental note to go to the gym at some point soon.

From: Queen Be

I had the conversation with Clyde

Wendy’s fingers typed a mile a second. “Your place after our council meeting?”

From: Queen Be

You know it, girl. Btw bring your hair dye gloves and that brush

“You’re dying your hair?!?!?!”

From: Queen Be

I’ll explain later

Wendy put down her phone and drearily looked at her desk. She was getting a slight headache she knew would turn into a full blown migraine if she didn’t give herself a break. When was the last time she drank a glass of water? With a defeated sigh, she reached over and flipped her lamp off.

__________________________________________________________________________

Cartman stomped into his living room, wrapping his chubby arms around his wide torso.

“Mom!”

His mom, kind and sweet and alway understanding of Cartman, answered like she always did. “Yes, honey?”

“What am I good at?”

“Well, um,” she hesitated, as she folded Cartman’s laundry on the couch. “You have lots of friends! My little man is so popular.”

Cartman knew for one, everyone hated him, and for two, at 6’3” and 300 lbs easy he wasn’t a “little man”.

“How is that going to make me money?” He huffed. “Seriously, mom, you say the stupidest things.”

He stomped up the stairs to his room. 

What was he good at? What could he possibly do that would show up that stupid Jew?

“Hey, mom!” he yelled through his bedroom door. “I want mac n cheese for dinner!”

“Honey, I went to the store today just to get the pizza you asked for…”

“Moo-oom. I want mac n cheese!” he said with emphasis. 

He thought he could hear his mom sigh, but surely it was a trick of his imagination. “Okay, sweetheart. We’ll have mac n cheese.”

Cartman was halfway to turning around when he stopped, eyes widening. Well, there was one thing he was good at.


	6. The One Where Bebe Decides to Go Big or Go Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for another Clyde-Bebe-Token-Jimmy chapter!
> 
> The next one will be a Craig-Tweek-Butters-Kenny chapter (and one of my favorite Tweek scenes). 
> 
> Token's statistics are actually true statistics btw.
> 
> Also, the factory programs Jimmy talks about are also real - I recommend supporting them. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!

Bebe was quiet, and Bebe Stevens was never quiet. It made Clyde quite uncomfortable. They sat on his couch, watching some sort of action movie Clyde had picked out. Usually Bebe would talk through it, but tonight she seemed distracted, twirling her hair in her fingers.

“Hey, baby.” Clyde paused the movie. “Are you feeling okay?”

Bebe sighed, her sweet, brown eyes closing. “Clyde, we need to talk.”

“Oh, no, no, no. Don’t do this, Bebe.” Clyde started to panic. Maybe he knew in the pit of his stomach this was coming. “Don’t do this to me.” He had already started to cry.

“No, Clyde, calm down. It really isn’t as bad as it seems,” she said, emotion high in her voice. She took his hands in hers. Her nails were long and pretty and bright red like cherries. She wore the silver ring he had given her when they were 13.

“But- but-” he stuttered, trying to get his composure together and failing miserably. 

“Clyde, what if I want to cut all my hair off and dye it brown?”

He stopped sniffling long enough to give her a confused look and ask through a stuffed up nose exactly what the hell was she talking about. 

“What if I want to be an architect? What if I don’t want to be Bebe Stevens from South Park, girlfriend of Clyde? What if I want to be different?”

“Then be different! That doesn’t matter to me!” Clyde felt like he had been punched in the stomach. 

“But it does, Clyde. You can’t stand change or anything that doesn’t fit your neat little life plan.”

“Oh, well excuse me for having issues with the unexpected. I watched her die, Bebe!” He had never raised his voice towards her before, not in the many, many years they had been together. Her eyes widened. 

“You can’t keep letting this rule your emotions. Eventually you have to let go. Of your mom, of needing to take care of your dad, of everything else!”

Don’t say it, Clyde thought.

“And of me.”

____________________________________________________________________________

“And then he cried really hard, and I left.”

“Well, that’s a disappointing ending,” Wendy said, tapping her eraser on her book. “How do you do number three again?”

“Oh, you carry this number over, and then use it to divide this one.”

“Thanks,” Wendy said, furiously writing. “So, how do you feel about it?”

“Awful. Worried I made a mistake. But then again this is probably what’s good for him, too.”

Wendy nodded in agreement. “I’m gonna sound like a bitch here, but it needs to be said. You couldn’t keep being a stand in for his mom.”

Bebe knew she was exactly right. “So, anyway,” Bebe said, lifting up a drugstore bag. “When are we going to start this?”

“How blue are we talking?” Wendy asked slowly. “The teachers are going to freak.”

“Fuck them. It’s raspberry slushie blue. Go big or go home,” Bebe giggled.

____________________________________________________________________________

Token was a sociable young man. Most everyone liked him, and well, respected him. He was intelligent and kind and friendly. He enjoyed people truly. 

But nothing made Token happier than sinking in the leather seat in his family’s library with a book. He had finished Wuthering Heights the evening earlier, and now settled for an old favorite of his - Great Expectations. 

As geeky as it sounded, Token felt like he was an ambassador of books to his friends. Whenever Craig was consumed in a book about string theory or Tweek wide eyed over the Art of Happiness or even Clyde, who hid romance novels behind Playboys, you could always bet Token Black had given them the book. 

It made him happy. It was like sharing a secret world of his to his friends. Sure, maybe it wasn’t saving the life of someone on the operating table, but Token daydreamed about bringing the joy of books and knowledge to those around him. 

He knew deep down his mom and dad would support him. They’d probably even call it noble. But Token just couldn’t risk seeing the disappointment in their eyes. Besides, what if they thought this meant they would need to support him for the rest of their lives? Token didn’t know what path his love for literature would lead him, but he knew it probably wasn’t one paved with gold.

Token pulled out his phone from in between the arm of the chair and the cushion. Indulging himself, he began to fall down the Google hole. The U.S. has an illiteracy rate of 14%. Keeping the population in mind, that’s a huge number. And - Token groaned - it hadn’t changed in ten years.

Was no one doing anything about this? 

____________________________________________________________________________

“Jimmy, it’s not that we don’t believe in you,” Jimmy’s dad said at the kitchen table. He was the town fire chief, and he was strong and strapping. 

“We are just worried. New York is a big and scary place. Any parent would be worried. And honey, we have to be a little extra careful with you,” his mom finished, clasping her hands together. 

“Bu-but mom, dad, i-it’s New York City. Tons of handi-handicapped people live the-there. They do fi-fine.” Jimmy flashed one of his smiles at them in an effort to keep the atmosphere positive. 

“Yes, baby, but how will you even afford it there? New York is expensive, and it… might be hard for you to find a job.” His mom looked away. 

“I- I know that, but it’s not im-impossible. There are fac-factories out there that have sp-special programs f-for dis-disabled people. I -I could even get one here so-soon so I can can save up.”

“Jimmy, you are not working at a factory. And that’s that.” His dad huffed gruffly, suddenly irritated. 

“Yo-you know, you can’t just sa-say you be-believe in me, and that I can d-do anything, an-and then when push, push comes to sh-shove, you ba-back out.” Jimmy carefully got up from his chair. “I-I’m going to wo-work on my set,” he said angrily, turning his back to his parents.


	7. The One Where Tweek Gets into It with Kenny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering about the smut - it's coming, I swear. Soon there's some short heterosexual Clyde smut (but it's real humorous), porn-y lesbian smut, then a Creek quickie, and then I just worked on a really, really, really hardcore porn Creek scene (that is so intense I'm going to section it off for those of you who might find it a bit much) - and then there's another hardcore one that is a spoiler. So I promise, it's coming !!
> 
> Also, I realized Kenny is always lit up by the sunset, so at one point I just made it a consistent thing XD Just call it symbology or something. 
> 
> This is of course a Craig - Tweek - Butters - Kenny section (one of my favorites actually). 
> 
> Then it'll be a Kyle-Stan-Wendy-Cartman section. 
> 
> Also, the Butters situation might seem like a stretch, but it's actually from real life experience. Isolation is an abuse tactic people rarely mention!
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

That settled it. Craig had enough money from working as an assistant to Kenny’s brother at the mechanic shop to rent out the planetarium for a couple of hours. Of course it was nothing compared to the real stars, where they had their very first kiss, but it was hard to predict the weather five months out. And the night had to be perfect.

They’d play 90’s music and lay on their backs and watch the constellations. And then Craig would pull out his grandmother’s wedding ring. 

“... Did you get this idea from Friends?” Kenny asked incredulously. 

“What? No.” Craig huffed. “Besides, go away. You’re distracting me.” He dropped some car keys into an envelope where he had neatly written someone’s name. 

“Oh, really?” Kenny asked flirtatiously, leaning towards Craig over the counter. 

Craig stepped back. “Cool it, Kenny. I’m a taken man. Besides, he would probably freak if he even knew we were in the same room together.”

Kenny hummed. “Mmm, so Tweekie is possessive?”

“No, we just have clear boundaries. What about Butters? Wouldn’t he have a problem with you skanking around? Didn’t you sleep with that Sally girl at that party this weekend?”

“And Megan at the same time. Butters and I aren’t monogamous, Craig. As long as he knows I love him, he doesn’t get caught up in who I sleep with. And vice versa. We’re not a done deal, anyway. He’s still very much under the thumb of his parents. Besides, he’s destined for bigger and better things.” Kenny’s voice got quiet in the end. 

Craig looked at him impassively. “So what are your big plans?”

“For what?”

“For after graduation?”

Kenny pulled his parka over his mouth like he did as a kid, leaning off the counter. “I don’t know, Craig. Some soul searching journey. Hippie vans, fun drugs, desert towns…. You know the whole deal.”

“That’s vague and aimless as fuck. Why don’t you actually do something, man? Do you even know where this ‘journey’ is to?” Craig knew he could come off as condescending sometimes, but honestly, it was rooted in concern for his friend. 

Craig knew exactly where he was going and what’d he do. He had been accepted into the premiere astrophysics program in Texas, thanks to him winning the Colorado state science fair and placing in the national one by planning out all the details of raising guinea pigs on Mars. However, he had the grace not to go around bragging like Kyle Broflovski about his accomplishments. 

Craig had worked hard, not that it was a big burden since he loved science and space and mechanics, but he was well aware the race wasn’t won yet. He wouldn’t be like his dad and mom, slaving away behind desks, doing menial shit they hated. 

Craig would change the world. He and his hot, blonde musician husband would live in some mansion in Florida with an entire ranch of guinea pigs. He’d name them after stars.

“Helloooooo?” Kenny waved his hand in front of Craig’s face. “Are you day dreaming about guinea pigs again?

____________________________________________________________________________

If kickboxing was about facing his fears, music was about tuning them out. Tweek’s parents had put him in lessons at a pretty young age in order to wrangle in what reports cards had said was “a problem with impulse and self-control”. 

He wasn’t good at it in the beginning. Tweek’s anxiety and mania had led him to bang randomly on the keys most of the time, screeching about whatever conspiracy theories he believed wholeheartedly in. 

He still very much believed in conspiracy theories, but this time he was able to focus on notes and cadence and keys. It took Tweek awhile to get as good as he was, and while his voice was naturally beautiful, that took some reigning in, too.

The band room was empty, littered with black music stands and instrument cases. Tweek had his own piano at home - a present for his 13th birthday - but he felt he could concentrate better here. He checked his phone, propped up next to the sheets of music. 

Tweek threw back his head and groaned. He only had an hour before he’d be due at his parents’ cafe. 

Tweek wasn’t sure if he wanted a cigarette or more coffee. He had promised Craig he’d cut back on both, but the thought of a seven hour shift at the coffeehouse made him consider cheating a little bit. 

He picked up his ridiculously large thermos off the floor next to him. It was depressingly empty. Nicotine it was. 

Tweek left out of the side door of the bandroom where there was a little concrete area. He was less likely to get caught out here smoking on school grounds since it was well after school. He took one step out of the door and felt his heart drop. 

There on the edge sat Kenny McCormick, ever-present orange parka halfway slid down his arms, shaggy, blonde hair shining in the setting sun. 

Just as Tweek considered fleeing, Kenny turned around, wide-eyed, with a cigarette in between his lips. 

“Tweekie!” he exclaimed. “Come to smoke? You know, I heard you in there. You’re really quite something.”

Tweek’s face prickled at the thought of having a hidden audience. “Don’t call me Tweekie.” He bravely sat down, pulling the pack out of his jacket pocket. 

“Wow, cowboy killers! Didn’t expect you to be a Marlboro guy. You seem like an American Spirits kind of dude.”

“Well, I’m - nghh - full of surprises,” Tweek said darkly, internally kicking himself for his tell tale signs for nervousness. 

“I have a question for you,” Kenny said, taking a long drag. “So your last name is T-w-e-a-k, right? But your first name is T-w-e-e-k. Why’d your parents name you that? Also, your folks’ coffee shop is spelled T-w-e-e-k. Were you named after the business or was the business named after you?”

Tweek never wanted to smack the shit out of someone more in his life. Kenny stared at him with those blue eyes, and Tweek honest to God thought about decking him right then and there. 

“You fucked my boyfriend.” Even he was surprised at his words. 

Kenny’s eyes widened. “He wasn’t your boyfriend then. And if we’re getting technical here, he fucked me.”

“Whatever, man. It was an unspoken rule.”

“So, what, was he supposed to remain celibate for the rest of his life just because you couldn’t get your shit together?” 

Really, Tweek was confident he’d win. Kenny might be bigger, but Tweek had such a huge chip on his shoulder.

“You don’t own Craig, Tweek.”

“I didn’t think I did. I’m just offended he’d go from me to white trash.” 

Kenny whistled. “Wow, you really can be a bitch sometimes.”

Tweek knew calling Kenny white trash was a low blow, but he was unbelievably pissed. He remembered the night he found out. It was at the start-of-Senior-year party at Clyde’s house, and a drunk Stan Marsh had shoved him into the door frame. 

Tweek had been drinking despite the labels on his medication bottles, and it was causing him to disassociate. Unnerved by Stan’s shove, he climbed the stairs, thinking a couple of splashes of water and a couple of seconds to himself would help.

Tweek was disturbed by the photos of Clyde’s mom hanging above the handrail. He didn’t remember her as being a particularly kind woman, but the thought that one day she had been there, and in a single moment, she wasn’t, freaked him out. How did she die again? Tweek never got the clear details. He knew she had drowned in some weird bathroom incident, and that Clyde had watched the whole thing happen.

He had been consumed by his thoughts and out-of-body feelings he didn’t notice anything off. The upstairs was empty - only Clyde’s actual friends were allowed up there - and Tweek thought he heard something, but the bass thumped below and his ears were doing that weird ringing thing it had done since he passed out and hit his head on the side of the tub.

It wasn’t until he turned into the bathroom that he found out exactly where the noises were coming from. There, leaning against the wall, was his dark and handsome ex-boyfriend, head tilted up, eyes halfway closed, and fingers tangled in sandy blonde hair. And on his knees in front of him was Kenny McCormick.

Tweek thought he was going to pass out right there. 

“Oh, god damn it! Tweek!” 

He doesn’t remember what happened next, but according to Token, he had burst through the house out the front door. Tweek knew he woke up on his own bathroom floor, and he was sort of glad he didn’t remember the rest of the night. 

But now here he was. Sitting next to the guy whose mouth his Craig had been balls deep in. 

“You know he cried after that? He called you like, ten times, but you didn’t pick up. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

The fact Kenny had seen Craig like that didn’t make Tweek feel better. Tweek himself had only seen him cry a couple of times. He had kind of cried when Stripe #4 had died (that was his and Tweek’s first baby after all), but he had sobbed the night Tweek had his breakdown. 

Kenny didn’t deserve to see him like that. 

“Do you have feelings for him?” Tweek hated himself for asking. 

“Craig is my friend. He helped me through a dark time. But what does it matter? He’s with you now. Get over it.” Kenny sounded suddenly very angry. Was that jealousy?

“Don’t tell me what to do, “ Tweek snapped, getting up. Somewhere he knew, though, it was true. If Craig didn’t want to be with Tweek, well, he quite simply wouldn’t be with him, would he? 

He made the wise decision to go back inside and grab his things. Kenny wasn’t worth whatever the consequences of beating the shit out of him would be. 

________________________________________________________________________

Butters sat in between his bed and the wall on the floor. His ribs and head hurt from crying.

How many times would he go through this? His parents had found a pair of black heels in the back of Butters’s closet. And, on top of that, when Butters’s dad found out he wasn’t answering his phone because he was practicing, that sealed the deal. 

They had told him to stay in his room until further notice. They had said the only punishment that seemed fit was for him to stay away from school for the time being. Away from his corrupting friends, away from the theatre department, and away from people who accepted who Butters truly was. 

He climbed into his bed numbly, pulling the covers up to his chin. He knew it was going to be a sleepless night. 

This wasn’t the first time he had been kept home as punishment. If Butters couldn’t hide the bruise well enough or if he especially fucked up, they’d keep him home for a couple of days, blaming it on a cold.

Surely Pip, Scott, and Kenny would notice. But would they see through his parents’ lies?

_________________________________________________________________________

Kenny thought Pip and Scott were a little afraid of him by the way they fidgeted when he sat next to them, so he smiled despite his worries.

“So you two haven’t heard from him either?”

Pip shook his head. “No, we haven’t seen him since Monday. His dad called, and he seemed… bothered.”

It was Friday morning. 

Kenny eyed them. How much did they know? “Do you think he’s… okay?”

They both looked at each other, and Kenny knew they knew. 

“We don’t know. We’ve talked about that ourselves. His dad seemed really angry with him over the phone,” Scott said. 

Kenny thought about the time he and Butters went on their first date. It wasn’t planned as a date - actually, it wasn’t planned at all. Kenny was smoking a joint at Stark’s Pond and was surprised how confidently Butters sat next to him. Of course they were childhood friends - Kenny was always nicer to Butters than the others - but over the years they had drifted slightly apart. It was cloudy and cold, but Butters lit up the entire space. 

He wouldn’t let anyone snuff out that light. Kenny would gladly die a million times over for him. He’d gladly die once and for all for him. 

“That settles it. I’m going to his house after school.” Kenny slammed his hands on the library table in finality. 

“Listen, we’ve considered that, too, but his parents are crazy, Kenny. We don’t want to make the situation any worse.” Pip sounded like this was something Scott and he discussed regularly. 

“I don’t know if it can get any worse.”


	8. The One Where Cartman is Up to Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're already half way through!
> 
> I think I'll write some South Park AU things after this (like superheroes and mafia and such), and then maybe I'll write like, a short series on these versions of the characters during the summer following high school graduation and maybe the summer following the first year of college. I thought about doing a prequel to this at some point about what happened with Kenny and Craig, but I'm not big on prequels. 
> 
> Honestly, though, I've been kind of insecure about my writing lately, and I think I need more private practice. 
> 
> This is a Kyle-Stan-Wendy-Cartman chapter!! We get to find out how Stan reacted to the kiss. 
> 
> The next one will be a Clyde-Bebe-Token-Jimmy chapter with some slight smut with Clyde and a Raisin Girl ;)
> 
> Please comment or kudos or tell me I suck, any direction is nice! Thanks for reading <3

Was he kissing back? 

Kyle guessed Stan kinda was, but it was hard to tell if it was just an automatic reaction to sudden physical contact. 

How much time had past? Kyle was so enraptured by the familiar smell of Stan in an unfamiliar proximity it was like he didn’t exist in the world anymore. It was just the two of them. 

Kyle had his arms slung around Stan’s shoulders, and Stan had his … by his side? Kyle guessed he wasn’t embracing him. Was that a bad thing?

What if Kyle pulled him even closer? What if he opened his mouth a little and took it to the next step? Kyle had been told by a myriad of past girlfriends he was a good kisser, so at least he had that going for him. 

Kyle never knew he wanted something so bad before. He guessed it was now or never. 

In one swift motion, he moved his arms to around Stan’s waist, pulling their bodies flush, and at the same time parted his lips. He was sure Stan could hear his heart thump.

Stan’s response was overwhelming. He grabbed the small of Kyle’s back and arched him up, turning his head to the side and meeting his tongue halfway. 

It was slow and controlled and hot and Kyle couldn’t believe he was making out with his childhood best friend, but damn, if it wasn’t the best thing he had done his entire life. 

But just like that, it was over. Stan pulled away from Kyle, looking pained.

“Kyle, I… I don’t feel the same way.” Stan’s voice cracked, and his eyes refused to meet Kyle’s.

“Then, dude, what the fuck was that?” His face burned and he couldn’t tell if it was anger or embarrassment. 

“I don’t know. I guess after all the shit I put you through, I guess I owe you a kiss.” He pinched his nose like he did when he thought someone was being an idiot. This didn’t help the situation for Kyle. “I love you, Kyle. I really do. More than anyone. But I’m not in love with you.”

Kyle could only stand there in silence. Don’t cry, he thought to himself, digging his nails into his palm. Don’t fucking cry. 

Stan reached over and brushed a tear from Kyle’s face. Oh, god damn it. 

“Maybe in another life.” He kissed him on the forehead.

Kyle just nodded numbly, as Stan turned around and walked out. 

_______________________________________________________________________

“It’s not that I didn’t like kissing him, but I mean, he’s been my best friend for so long, I don’t know if I just have some weird dependence on him or what. I don’t think I’m gay - Actually, I’m 100% sure I’m not gay. But he’s just been with me through everything. I can't break his heart."

The two mutts perked their ears as Stan focused on brushing the matted hair of the Pekingese in his arms.

“I guess this is really all my fault. I’ve known for a little while he was in love with me. He started looking at me like Wendy had stopped doing,” Stan said this with bitter humor in his voice. “I guess it doesn’t matter either way. What if I told him I feel the same way? It’d eventually burn out like it did with Wendy. She won’t even talk to me anymore.”

The Pekingese whimpered when he hit a rough spot. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. Besides, I’m a mess. I can’t even go a day without drinking. Man, I’m just so overwhelmed.” Stan thought about a life sober. Would it really be that bad?

He knew it just left a wake of hurt to those around him. His parents’ had long figured it out, but there was nothing they could do to stop him. Were they afraid of him? The thought made him sick.

Other things gave him joy that didn’t require drinking. Volunteering at the animal shelter like today, playing video games with his friends, sports, jogs in the morning that made his lungs burn and his knees feel weak. But it seemed those things were slipping away more and more.

Stan felt the dog cuddle up to him, as if he sensed Stan needed it. Today had been one of those days. In Geography, Tweek Tweak had turned around in his desk at one point and hissed that he could smell the whisky from where he sat, which caused everyone around them to turn and look at Stan. Maybe he should apologize to him for shoving him.

Actually, there were a lot of people he needed to apologize to. 

That gave Stan an idea. 

_________________________________________________________________________

They were truly all friends, but rarely were this many of them in one place. Wendy looked around, with affection in her heart. Butters and Kenny were missing, but besides that all of them had managed to get themselves together long enough to hang out. 

“Why does everything we do have to involve competition?” complained Craig Tucker from the corner. 

“Yeah, can’t we do something fun that doesn’t involve us trying to out do each other?” a red-eyed Clyde agreed. 

“You losers are just afraid we’ll win.” Cartman made his smug little grin, and Stan nodded in agreement. 

“If anyone should be worried, it’s you boys,” Wendy said confidently. She always felt like she was the unofficial leader of the girls.

Cartman, surprisingly, held out the Expo marker to Kyle, who groaned. 

Token laughed sharply. “Wow, Eric Cartman is handing the torch over to Kyle? Things really are changing.”

“Well, Kyle is good at bossing people around and making rules. Besides, I’m much too busy to be the gamemaster.” Cartman sat down at a nearby desk.

“Gamemaster?” Craig asked, raising his eyebrow. Tweek elbowed him. 

“So here are the rules-”

Usually Wendy would be taking notes, but she was distracted by her phone buzzing in her bag. It was her boss at the library. 

Sorry, she mouthed to Kyle before ducking out of the classroom. “Hello, Mrs. Giles.”

“Hello, Wendy,” the stern woman said, and Wendy could tell right away it wasn’t going to go well. “Are you aware your shift started an hour ago?”

Wendy felt all the air go out of her lungs. “Oh my god, Mrs. Giles, I am so sorry. I had this thing after school, and I just forgot - I’m sorry, I really am. I can be there in like, ten minutes.”

“Don’t bother. You were late the past two weeks.”

Her heart dropped. “Mrs. Giles, please, Senior year has just been really busy. I need this job to pay for college. Please, Mrs. Giles, just one more chance!” She hated that she was begging, but Wendy never failed anything - and certainly she was never fired. 

“I’m sorry, Wendy. You’re going to have to learn responsibility somehow.” And with that, Mrs. Giles ended the call.

The last sentence wrung in her ears. How could she have been so forgetful? Why couldn’t she have tried harder? This stupid group meeting wasn’t worth it. She started crying, too shocked to move herself anywhere more private. 

She needed that job. It paid well, and it was the only flexible one in town. How was she going to afford her books? And oh god, she had freshman orientation next month, and how would she even afford the gas? Suddenly she felt like it was hard to breath. Was it her making those gasping noises?

Long, pale hands grabbed her by the arm, slowing her descent on the floor. “She’s having a panic attack,” Tweek said.

“Wendy, what happened? Is everything okay?” Kyle asked.

She tried to explain, but nothing came out but gasps and sobs.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to tell us right now.” Tweek’s voice was soothing. 

Bebe sat cross-legged next to her, and Wendy put her head on her shoulder, letting her play with her hair. “Is it anything that’s an emergency?”

Wendy shook her head. 

“Okay, just do what I do, okay? Breathe in, breathe out,” Tweek said, getting eye level with her. 

Wendy followed him, and her heart rate slowed. Once her head cleared she noticed that about fifteen people were looking at her. 

“Do you want me to help you get home?” Bebe asked, helping her up off the floor.

Wendy nodded. She had never felt so useless in her life.

 

________________________________________________________________  
Cartman was a schemer, and schemers don’t do things without testing the waters.

Usually he’d try out his schemes on Butters, but he had been MIA lately. Besides, he had something to prove to himself, so he wasn’t about to go for an easy target.

He walked into the library, trying his best be as confident as possible. That was key. 

There at one of the tables sat Heidi, his on and off again girlfriend from elementary and middle school. She had never managed to lose all the weight she had put on, but she took care of her appearance. That’s not why she was one of the most popular girls in the school, though. Heidi was pretty, but most importantly she was smart and funny. 

Cartman did indeed feel some true affection for her. She had forgiven him after all these times, even enough to agree to meet him after school.

“Hello, Heidi! How are you?”

He sat down, giving her his best smile.

She looked at him pointedly. “What do you want, Eric?”

Cartman waited a second to answer. Heidi’s soft brown hair had grown long, almost to her waist. She had lovely green eyes, bright and intelligent. 

“I was just thinking.. Would you like to go to dinner with me next week?”

Heidi seemed taken aback. “What?? Why would I go to dinner with you, Eric? You almost ruined my life.”

“I know, and that’s why I want to make it up to you. Heidi, you’re the only person who’s ever treated me right,” Cartman said, his voice getting high. “Besides, it doesn’t even have to be a date. Just dinner between two old friends.”

Cartman caught the look right in Heidi’s eyes. “Okay, Eric. But it’s not a date, okay?!”

Cartman smiled at her the widest he could. “Wednesday night, 7 p.m.?”

“Yeah, sure,” Heidi sighed, getting up.

Cartman glowed. Hook, line, and sinker, he thought.


	9. The One Where Clyde Has Bad Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Clyde. 
> 
> The next one will be a Craig-Tweek-Butters-Kenny section, where illegal activity happens, you'll find out what exactly happened to Craig and Tweek that broke them up those months ago, and Kenny pulls a Mysterion (costume not included). ;)
> 
> Plz enjoy!!

Clyde lifted the girl’s legs up swiftly over his shoulders and angled himself to get in deeper. She moaned, reaching up to grab the headboard. 

She was hot, that’s for sure. She was a former Raisin Girl, long-legged and made up like a doll. And man, Clyde thought as he watched her tits bounce up and down with every thrust, was he lucky to be banging her. He liked to think he made up for a love of tacos and a rather average face with a good ol’ boy charm.

Except he felt anything but charming right now and yeah, his dick felt great, but everything else felt awful.

“Oh, Clint,” she breathed, like some Brazzers actress. 

Clyde stopped. “My name is Clyde.”

“What, baby?”

He sighed and continued fucking her. “Nothing.”

__________________________________________________________________________

Bebe shook out her hair, checking herself out in her car’s window, before turning around to walk into the school.

Immediately she felt the hush as everyone’s eyes turned towards her. 

“Whoa, that’s some blue ass hair,” Red said excitedly. “It looks great!”

Bebe grinned. It was blue - bright blue. Not hipster-girl-blue-silver. Not-kawaii-girl-pastel blue. No, it was eye-searingly blue. 

“You look stupid,” Cartman said as they passed. She flipped him off.

Sure, she felt like something as artificial as hair color shouldn’t make her feel so much like… herself. But it was more than that. Her mom had gasped that morning when she walked into the kitchen. “Honey, what will boys think when they see you?”

Bebe flipped her hair at the memory. She really could not give less of a fuck.

_________________________________________________________________________

Library science.

Token took a long look at it. Of course he had already applied to the school for the pre-med program, but it wasn’t too late to change, was it?

He sighed. There was no way he could do so without talking to his parents about it first. 

But him, Token Black, a librarian?

His entire life everyone - from his teachers to his friends to his family - expected him to grow up to be a doctor or a lawyer or a scientist. And Token had to agree, the position of doctor suited him. He was one of the smartest kids in South Park. But unlike Kyle, he was cool-headed, and unlike Craig, well, he had the capacity to care deeply about others. 

It wasn’t even all about his parents’ expectations. Would he be letting down everyone else, too?

Token was the friend everyone went to for advice or an ear to listen when they needed it. Who could he go to, though?

Clyde was dealing with his own shit, and besides, he was incredibly self-involved. Craig was afraid of feelings. Tweek would just give some off-the-wall response, like Token had been replaced by an alien, or he should burn some plant under the full moon. Wendy would’ve been a good choice, but she seemed to have enough on her mind. 

Stan was actually pretty logical, but only if you got him in between swigs. There was something about Kenny that whigged Token out - he couldn’t quite put his finger on it - and Butters had been… missing? It occured to Token that might be an issue to revisit later.

Cartman was absolutely not an option. And Kyle - Token thought Kyle was okay, but the last few days he had been stumbling around like a deer in headlights, and he wasn’t sure he had the energy to delve into whatever mess that was. 

Bebe was his friend, but no good in these situations - besides, she had a man sapping her emotional energy long enough. That left Nicole. 

Nicole and he were friends, despite breaking up after a long dating history. Would she think this was some high-handed attempt to get back with her, though? Token shook his head. He needed a friend, and Nicole was the perfect one for this situation. 

He dialed her number in his phone - Token wasn’t a text messaging kind of person.

“Hey, Token!” she said cheerfully.

“Hey, Nicole. So I, um,” Token stumbled, wishing he had planned this conversation out a little more. “I’m kinda going through something right now, and I need some advice. Will you be free in a couple of hours?”

“Sure! Tweek Bros. around 6?”

Token agreed and hung up. His chest already felt lighter.

____________________________________________________________________________

Despite his stutter, Jimmy hit the punchline right on beat. The assembly laughed, and he bowed his head as the principal took the mike from him.

“Thank you, Jimmy. And now time to get down to business. I’m sure most of you have filled out your FAFSA information, but don’t forget - “

Jimmy sat down next to Clyde, who bro-fisted him in the special way they had.

He honestly could not think of anything else he’d like to spend his life doing. What did his parents expect him to do instead? Stay in South Park for the rest of his life, just because he might have a harder time living apart from them? Jimmy wasn’t an idiot - he knew moving from South Park to New York City was like going from the Little League to the MLB in one bat swing, and he might as well be batting left handed. 

But day dreaming would get him nowhere. He’d make a call to the factory today.


	10. The One Where Tweek Commits a Crime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creek smut!!
> 
> The blood-out-of-the-mouth thing is from my friend who once fell and bit the tiniest bit off her tongue - but when she opened her mouth, you would've thought she was dying by all the blood. 
> 
> Also, I am 100% not condoning casual hard drug usage - there's a cocaine reference up ahead (but if you're not familiar with the terms, you might not even catch it.) I just wanted to illustrate the fact Tweek has a wild streak like Craig. (Also, inspired by that scene in the show where he drinks cough syrup in the middle of the hallway).
> 
> Also, if you're wondering about the game they're talking about in the earlier Wendy scene - that might be a separate story at some point. 
> 
> The next one will be a Kyle-Stan-Wendy-Cartman section.

For someone so disorganized, Tweek’s list-making was an attempt of some order, even if the lists were sometimes nonsensical. So it came to no surprise when Tweek made one for their relationship goals, probably more for the semblance of control than anything. 

He had handed the crumpled paper to Craig in his quick Tweek way and in shaking writing it read: 

Spend time together that doesn’t involve being naked  
Fully discuss the “Kenny thing”  
Craig talk about feelings at least once a day

Surprisingly they had marked off all three. Tweek had declared one morning on the way to school that Craig had the “greenlight” - Tweek’s words, not Craig’s - to fuck him again (causing Clyde to kick the back of Tweek’s car seat).

The second one had been more difficult. One night Craig's phone had buzzed, and looking down, he read a text from Kenny asking if using him wasn't enough, if now Kenny would have to deal with his "shitty boyfriend" terrorizing him over it, too.

Craig had sighed, and when Tweek asked him who the text was from, he sat him down on the bed.

“Babe, if you’re not going to trust me, then we can’t do this. I know what you saw really hurt you, and I know a lot of people talked about us. I did it because I was hurting and I missed you, and it wasn’t fair to either you or Kenny. I broke your heart all over again because I couldn’t put my pride aside, and I used him. But I don’t love him. Baby, you’re my whole world.”

“Oh, Craig,” Tweek had sighed, brushing his fingers through Craig’s hair.

That had knocked number three off the list for the day, too.

But as Craig had sternly told Tweek, he had his own list. 

And one requirement was that Tweek would have to stop being a drug pusher. 

At least Tweek didn’t do them. Well, okay, Craig had seen him do a couple of lines at parties before when Craig was too drunk to stop him, but that had already stopped. After his hospitalization, Tweek was more aware of unhealthy coping mechanisms. It was a dark hole he did not want to fall down into. 

But right now was not the time to be focusing on these things. 

Tweek was currently on his knees with Craig sitting propped up on giant bags of coffee. He took his sweet time dragging his tongue up Craig’s dick, flicking his round eyes up at him. Maintaining eye contact, he took the plunge, fitting the whole thing in his mouth. 

Craig felt his dick bump the back of his throat, and he moaned, deep and graveled. He brushed his hands through Tweek’s hair, closing his fist and pushing his head with the rhythm of Tweek’s sucking. 

Tweek whined. Craig knew that signal and pulled at Tweek’s hair harder. “Oh fuck yes. Does it taste good, baby?”

Tweek hummed, and Craig felt his body tense up. He felt the warmth pool up and his head get dizzy and he was just so close to the release. “I’m gonna come down your throat,” he breathed. “I want you to swallow every last bit of it. Oh, god, I fucking missed this.”

He face-fucked him, and the room was filled with the sound of Tweek’s sucking and occasional gagging. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

The look in Tweek’s eyes in response pushed him over the edge. Craig was moaning his name, making good on his word, when they heard the tell tale sound of the bell letting them know someone had entered the shop.

Tweek swallowed like a champ, still keeping eye contact with Craig. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and grinned like an imp. 

“It’s 11 at night. Who would come by so late?” Craig groaned. 

Tweek’s face darkened, and he twitched. Tightening his apron and pushing his hair behind his ears, Tweek gave him a knowing look.

“Then I’m going out there with you,” Craig said, following him out. He didn’t like the thought of Tweek being left to handle these guys alone. 

“Hello. Ngh,” Tweek twitched. Craig hated this. He only did that now when he was scared. 

The customer was a middle-aged man. Impossibly thin and ill-looking. He didn’t say anything. 

“I’ll be right back!” Tweek said too loudly and shot Craig a warning look, disappearing in the storage. 

 

As quickly as he went in, he came out with a coffee cup. He handed it to the customer with both hands, and the customer slid a wad of cash back at him. Tweek quickly stuck it in his apron pocket with such swiftness no one would have even noticed. He was getting too good at this. 

The man huffed - Craig thought he looked mean in the eyes - turned around, and left. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Craig softened his stance and pulled Tweek towards him by the hand. 

“Baby, what if he had robbed you? There’s literally no one around.”

“Don’t you - ngh - think I know that? I think about that every night.” Tweek bit at his fingernails. “But it’s only for a little while longer, right? Then we’ll be states away.” The smile he gave Craig warmed his dead, frozen heart. 

“I know, baby, but all it takes is one time. I can’t stand the thought of losing you. At least promise me this.” He pulled Tweek’s fingers from his mouth. “Talk to your parents about this, okay? Soon.”

Tweek nodded and pressed his head into Craig’s chest sweetly.

__________________________________________________________________________

 

Around 8 months earlier, Tweek, dressed in too-big scrubs, had sat on a non-descript sofa opposite of a tidy-looking woman with a notebook,

“So tell me more about some of the situations you’ve felt have contributed to your illness getting worse. You mentioned you felt stuck in a situation, but you didn’t want to go into detail. Do you still want to talk about it?” The psychiatrist was nice enough, Tweek thought, but who knew what would happen if he trusted her.

Despite this, he nodded his head. He just wanted out of here. “There… there’s some people close to me who expect things of me. And they encourage me to do things I shouldn’t do - that are dangerous - and I have to hide them from the people I love the most.” Tweek stared at his bloody cuticles. “It makes me feel guilty and weak, but I’m afraid to stand up to them.”

“What happens if you stand up to them?”

They’d kick Tweek out on the streets, probably. They’d probably not ever speak to him again. And sure, he could go stay with Craig - but how was that fair? He’s Craig’s boyfriend, his equal - not some invalid. Besides, what if Craig grew to hate him? Then where would he go?

Tweek shrugged.

“Mr. Tweak, I think we’re done for the day. I really encourage you to think more about this. I don’t want to pressure you, but I don’t feel safe about letting you out of this hospital until I see that you can cope with these problems. Medication isn’t enough.” She sighed, tucking her notebook into her bag. 

An orderly walked Tweek back to his room, and he sat on the bed, looking out the locked window. 

There wasn’t a view, which he guessed was on purpose. It was just the roof of the hospital and a square of the quickly darkening grey sky, glowing blue in the twilight. 

He felt his eyes swell up with tears. At least he was able to cry now, unlike the last couple of days where he felt nothing but shocked numbness. The doctors didn’t know if it was his concussion or an affect of his breakdown.

Tweek’s thoughts wandered to Craig, the one person he tried to avoid thinking about. He would do anything to be able to speak to him and simultaneously he would do anything not to ever see him again.

The last look he had at Craig’s face close up was him crying, holding him. His nose was bleeding - had Tweek done that?

Tweek’s head had pounded, and he felt like he was going to throw up. 

Craig was saying something, but Tweek couldn’t piece it together. Where was he anyway?

All of a sudden he became eerily aware of something else in the room. Like a rabid cat, he clawed away from Craig, pressing his back against the tub. He opened his mouth to scream and blood poured out. Was this some fucked up horror story? 

Later Tweek would find out he had managed to bite his tongue hard enough to lose a small chunk of it. Unnoticeable, but enough to cause him to fucking Emily Rose all over Craig and the bathroom. 

Someone grabbed his arm with a stern voice and was instructing Tweek to do something. Gloved hands? Tweek realized that standing amongst Craig, who was sitting on the floor, were two EMTs in blue jumpsuits. In the doorway was a cop, his radio going off statically in the background. 

Craig had called 911?

The EMT lifted him up, and Tweek felt too weak, dizzy, and nauseous to stop him. He forced Tweek out of the room, who could only manage to stare at Craig.

Don’t let them take me away, he tried to convey, his hazel eyes boring into Craig’s green ones. Please.

Craig only shook his head numbly at him before covering his own mouth and bending over his knees on the floor. His shoulders shook, and Tweek thought he could hear him sobbing, but that couldn’t be. 

Craig Tucker did not cry. Besides, why was he crying? He was the one who called the people who were taking him away. 

And that was the last time Tweek had seen his boyfriend.

In a more saner state, he realized Craig had saved his life. Tweek had a concussion, not to mention a long list of ailments after that. His childhood medication wasn’t cutting it anymore, and he was long overdue for a new evaluation, his doctor had said. 

But he was still pissed.

And ashamed, because he made him cry like that. He bled all over him and elbowed him in the nose. When they should have spent the night making plans for summer vacation or listening to each other’s heartbeats slow post-coitis or watching space and conspiracy documentaries together, Craig had to watch his boyfriend go fucking nuts.

Craig deserved someone like… Thomas, Tweek thought. Smart and sensible and well put together. The thought made his stomach twist. 

If you love something, let it go, he thought.

_________________________________________________________________________

Butters was staring at the wall, his mind wonderfully blank for once. He heard tapping, but he closed his eyes, willing it to go away. Surely he was just hearing things.

But then the tapping turned into knocking, and Butters flew up out of his bed. He shoved open his window, shocked to see Kenny sitting behind the sill, in broad daylight.

“Are you flippin’ crazy?” Butters shout-whispered hoarsely. “Someone could see you!”

Kenny slipped in, ignoring Butters’s protests. “Baby, where have you been?” Butters couldn’t help but feel his heart swell up at the look of concern on Kenny’s face.

“Oh, just here. Mom and dad asked me to stay home for a few days.” Butters was a good actor, but he wasn’t that good of an actor.

“For a week? Butters, this could hurt your chance of graduation. Did they ask you or did they tell you?”

Butters’s silence told Kenny everything he needed to know. In one swift motion, he grabbed Butters around his hips and lifted him up in the air, so that his face was above his.

Butters giggled, running his hand through Kenny’s hair, which for once was beneath him. He had to admit he was impressed at Kenny for being able to lift him up like this. Butters thought he’d make a good dance partner.

“Listen,” Kenny said intensely and there was a layer to his voice Butters had never heard before. It made the hair on his arms stand up. “Where I’m going you can’t go. I’ve got to go on a trip once we graduate, and I might get into some thick shit, and I can’t put you through that. But until then, I’m getting you the fuck out of here.”

Butters gasped. “But, Ken, what about my parents?”

“Fuck them.”

“What about money? Where would I even stay?”

“With me. My parents won’t care, I promise. And shit, baby, you know I’m the best weed man out there.” Kenny smiled mischievously. “You can pay me back when you’re a rich and famous star.”

Butters felt his eyes water and with trembling hands, cupped Kenny’s face as he lowered Butters back down. “I’m scared.”

“I know. I am, too. But think about how much worse it’s been getting here for you.”

Butters thought about his life with his parents. Nothing was going to get better here. This wasn’t a life, this was just some dreary existence. 

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Kenny’s face lit up, and he kissed him on the forehead.

“Just let me grab some things up.” Butters knew he wouldn’t be able to take everything - and anything he didn’t take he probably wouldn’t see again - but he only owned a few clothes and books worth bringing. 

Kenny was his angel, there was no doubt about it. Butters had always known he was in love with Kenny, but god damn, what did he do in this world to deserve him?

Butters turned around to thank him - to tell him he loved him, and that whatever journey he was going on, Butters would wait for him for as long as it took. The setting sun backlit Kenny’s hair, and his blue eyes sparkled with the happiness Butters would finally be leaving this god forsaken place with him. The words were almost out of Butters mouth when his door slammed open. 

He yelped. His father stood there, rifle in hand, pointed at them.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Dad, he’s just a friend from school. Dad, please put the gun down. He’ll leave - he was just telling me stuff I missed in class.” The lies spilled out of Butters lips as he grew paler and paler. 

Kenny looked like he was made of stone. 

“Is he the one that turned you into a faggot?”

Butters was speechless, shocked into immobility.

“Tell me - you’re a McCormick, aren’t you? Tell me, McCormick, why I shouldn’t blow your brains out? You’ve come here into my household without my permission. I could do it, and it’d be entirely within the law. Hell, they’d probably thank me for getting rid of one more piece of white trash on the streets.”

Butters looked quickly at Kenny, whose face darkened. It occurred to him there was a very real possibility his dad would kill the man he loved right then and there. 

“Kenny, run. Go, go!” Butters half-pleaded, half-sobbed. “I’m not worth this.”

“So! He is the one that’s turned you into a faggot!” Mr. Stotch’s stance had tightened. 

“You are the lowest piece of shit there is.” Kenny’s voice cut the air. It sounded strange and not at all like him. “I know you hit them the other day. Does that make you feel more of a man when you do?”

“Kenny, no, please-”

“Does it make you feel better about the fact your son doesn’t hide who he is like you do? How many male prostitutes have you beaten after they’ve blown you? Does the fear in their eyes make you feel more like a man?” 

Butters was speechless. How did Kenny know this?

“How- how did you know about that?” Butters’s dad whispered, face growing as pale as his son’s. Then his face twitched and with that, he pulled the trigger.

Butters ears rang, but he knew he was screaming. No, let it be me, he thought. Let it be me that dies, not Kenny.

As soon as he braced himself to leap and push Kenny out of the way, he noticed, in slow motion, the room was getting darker. 

Was the room on fire? Butters thought it had suddenly filled with smoke. He felt cold and soon the fear of losing the man he loved was replaced by another chilly, unearthly fear. 

He could see Kenny in the middle of the room, amongst the smoke. He was standing with his arms outstretched - and oh thank god, he was alive.

But who was screaming?

As soon as it came, the smoke evaporated, pulling itself into Kenny. Kenny dropped to his knees, trying to catch his breath. 

In the door way laid Butters dad. The rifle was askew on the floor, and his dad was grey-skinned. But Butters could see the slight rise and fall of his chest - he was just incapacitated. 

He dropped to his knees next to Kenny, who flinched at the sudden closeness. 

Suddenly everything made more sense. 

“I don’t understand what just happened. Oh, pal, do you have some explaining to do. But I love you, Kenny McCormick. No matter… what you are.”

Kenny’s face softened and his eyes watered.

Butters placed a finger on his chapped lips to stop whatever he was going to stay. “But, first - get me the fuck out of here.”

___________________________________________________________________________

 

“I don’t know the full story. I don’t know if I was some bargaining chip or if I’m his offspring and my mom was just some container or what.” Kenny could feel his voice get thick. This was the first time he had actually spoken about it in detail. “But I can’t die. Well, I can, I do almost every day. But then I rise back up. And sometimes, if I let the part of myself tied to Cthulu lose control, I can do things like that. Though, sometimes when I do that I think I might lose myself to him.”

Butters reached for his hand, looking at him wide-eyed. “Does it hurt? How can I not remember any of this?”

“It’s a part of the curse, I guess. You might remember what happened with your dad, but you probably won’t remember this conversation. And yes, it hurts. I feel every second of what’s happening to me. The decapitations, the drownings, the burnings, everything else.”

Kenny heard sniffling, and he looked at Butters, surprised to see him crying.

“Don’t cry, baby. I’ll find a way to break this curse. And then we can be normal. The worst part is my friends watching me die like that over and over. I live with the fear you or Karen are going to see it happen… that every day you’ll have to experience losing me.”

“Stan, Kyle, Cartman … Even they don’t remember? What if… what if you wrote a note and every day I could look at it and remind myself?”

Kenny shrugged. “I’ve already tried that. It seems the note always somehow gets destroyed.” He sighed, guiding Butters by the hand towards the direction of his house. “They never remember. Except for… Cartman. We’ve never talked about it, but I think he knows. At one point, my soul shared his body, so I don’t know if that’s why or what.”

Butters drew up his shoulders and then dropped them, as if he had more questions and thought better of it. 

“Anyway, the main base of the cult is somewhere in the desert, I think. When we graduate, I’m going to go there and kill Cthulu.”

“Kill Cthulu?” squeaked Butters.

“Well, only an immortal can kill an immortal. I know he has bigger plans than just me, anyway. I’ve got to stop him before he takes over this dimension, too.”

“Let me go with you.” Butters stopped in his tracks and wrung his hands, but never broke Kenny’s surprised gaze.

“Absolutely not,” Kenny said with a laugh. “You, for one, are very mortal. Second, you can’t pass up this chance to follow your dreams, baby.”

Butters huffed.

Kenny smiled, pulling him into his arms. “I’ll kill him and save the world. You’ll go to school and become a big star. And then we’ll reunite and i’ll grow old and grey with you. Alright, Butterscup?” He buried his face in Butters’s strawberry-scented hair.

Kenny knew he had to keep up the facade for him. Inside, Kenny was scared shitless. But if he could just keep in mind a mortal life - one with Butters and Karen by his side - then maybe he could stay brave.


	11. The One Where You Go "Heidi, noooo!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Wendy's sections are so boring, but honestly I wanted to write a female part not based around romance. This is a Kyle-Stan-Wendy-Cartman section. The next one is a Clyde-Bebe-Token-Jimmy one, where there's a really graphic lesbian sex scene. 
> 
> Huzzah!
> 
> Tell me what you think! plz! You can tell me I suck even, any direction will help me. 
> 
> I'm fighting the urge to upload it all real soon. I'm excited about writing an AU.

And suddenly, like that, Kenny reappeared.

“Dude, I am so fucking glad to see you. Where have you been?” Kyle threw up his hands.

Kenny smiled impishly from the park bench, the sunset making his parka even that much more orange. “It’s a long story. Anyway, I know something is up ‘cause you can’t sit down.”

Kyle stopped pacing for a second. “Well, a lot has happened.”

“Like... ?”

Stan’s face, heart-shaped and charming, appeared in his mind. “Maybe in another life.” Kyle wondered if he should have ran after him and told him there was only one life, and Kyle didn’t want to spend it without him. 

“I kissed Stan.” Kyle’s face grew hot, but this was Kenny, and Kenny had seen Kyle at much worse.

Kenny whooped, throwing his hands in the air. “Finally! After all these years, you idiots finally kissed!”

Kyle glared at him. “Don’t go celebrating just yet.”

“Uh oh.” Kenny lowered his arms. “Did it go badly?”

“No, I guess not. He kissed me back, and then told me he loved me but wasn’t in love with me.” 

Kyle could still feel his lips on his own. The next day at school Stan had greeted him like any other day and rambled on about a camping trip he wanted to take with everyone at the end of summer. It was like nothing had ever happened. In fact, Stan had seemed more optimistic than usual.

Kenny whistled, low and long. “I don’t know what to tell you, dude. I can’t ever read Stan. Can you not, I don’t know, pull a That’s So Raven?”

Kyle’s eyes widened, and then narrowed. He crossed his arms. He didn’t like talking about all of that. It wasn’t logical, and it didn’t make sense. It frightened Kyle.

“Easy, Sheila. Ignoring it won’t make it go away. Believe me, it’ll only get worse if you do.”

Kyle shook his head, ending the conversation. “Anyway, don’t you have any big news of your own?”

Kenny grinned, winking. “Yeah, I do. My little Butterscup is living with me now.”

“Won’t that stifle your game a little bit?” Kyle said, smiling besides his harsh tone. The thought of non-monogamy in a relationship made him feel uncomfortable. 

“God damn, you and Craig are so judgey about that bullshit. Don’t think I forgot about the time I had to threaten Stan into not hitting you. And don’t get me started on that bitch Craig plans on marrying.” Kenny elbowed Kyle, getting up from the bench. “Be nice, and Butters and I might just help you forget about Stan,” Kenny flirted. 

Kyle didn’t feel guilty about the bruise he left on his arm.

______________________________________________________________________

Gonna start small and work my way up, Stan thought. He also thought maybe this wasn’t the best method - Wendy, Kyle, and his parents deserved it the most - but Stan had been working with much less liquid courage lately.

Even though he knew most of the cafeteria was involved in their own bullshit, he still felt like a million eyes were on him. Sometimes he wondered if there was a benefit to being small. His broad shoulders drew looks everywhere he went. 

The look on The Other Guy’s faces as he approached the table was not comforting.

Stan took a deep breath. “Tweek.” Tweek jumped, and Craig glared, putting a protective arm around him. “I’m sorry I shoved you that time. You were just trying to help.”

Tweek looked down and wrapped his fingers in his hair. “Ngh - Don’t worry about it, man. I was out of bounds.”

“Craig, I’m sorry I called you a faggot all those times when we were kids. I honestly didn’t know. And I know you act like it’s no big deal, but I know that word is mean and hurtful.” Stan’s face prickled with embarrassment.

Craig looked annoyed and made some nasally noise in the back of his throat. “That was a long time ago. We were dumb.”

“Clyde, I’m sorry I got really irritated that time when we were playing kickball, and you cried, and I told you to go home. I know you don’t always get the credit you deserve for your strength. I haven’t gone through half of what you have, and I’m a god damn mess.”

Stan didn’t mean to make him cry, but he should have expected it. “It’s okay. You were there a lot of other times,” Clyde sniffled.

Stan had been, but right now was for apologizing for what he had done wrong.

“And, Token, I, uh…. I don’t really know what I’ve done to you, but I’m sure there’s something.”

“You puked on his mom’s couch last year during the Halloween party and didn’t help clean it up,’ Clyde chirped helpfully, sniffling long and loud.

Token laughed. “Don’t worry about it, man. She wanted an excuse to buy a new couch anyway.”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Holy shit, I did that? Anyway, I hope you guys will forgive me.”

They remained silent, but Stan thought there was true affection in their faces. He was lucky to have them as friends, even peripherally.

He turned around to walk back to his own friend group, who had watched him curiously. 

“Hold up, Marsh,” Craig commanded montonely. “There’s one more thing you haven’t made up for.”

Stan groaned, not bothering to turn around. “I’m not apologizing for that god damn Peruvian flute band thing again, Craig.”

Everyone laughed.

____________________________________________________________________________

Wendy stood standstill in the middle of her bedroom.

It was pink-walled, full of books and trophies and things upon second glance made her feel like she was living in a shrine to herself. Which Bebe would’ve said was probably a good thing, but Wendy wasn’t feeling like worshipping herself at the moment.

She walked into her en suite bathroom. She touched her face. It was made up perfectly, not one smudge or line. Her short black hair was pulled back with a headband neatly. Wendy had a nice figure, but it was a conscious one - she was the girl that ordered salad when everyone else ordered pizza.

Wendy was glad she took the time with her appearance, but who was she really doing it for? With a sigh she grabbed a makeup wipe from the package on her counter and wiped it all off. The Wendy underneath had dark circles under her eyes. 

She changed out of her smart yellow sweater and straight legged black pants, and dug in the back of her drawers for leggings and a baggy T-shirt. She shook her hair out of the headband, rubbing the spots it had dug into the back of her ears. 

Wendy crawled into her bed, pulling the comforter around her. Holding her phone near her face, she opened up an app and started watching Seinfeld. She planned on staying like that for the rest of the night.

__________________________________________________________________________

Cartman pulled on the bottom of his neat red sweater, his hair combed to the side stiffly. Heidi had insisted on him not picking her up, so he was already sitting at the table when she got there.

She looked pretty, if not purposefully casual. Her long hair was braided down the side, and she wore leggings and a pink sweater. 

“Hey, Heidi!” Cartman smiled, genuinely happy to see her. 

She smiled back, in a better mood than she was at the library. 

“Hey, Eric!” She slid into the booth. 

“So, Heidi,” Cartman began. Saying their name as much as possible was important in things like this. “I bet you’re wondering why I asked you to join me tonight. 

“Yeah, I kind of am.” 

“Well, I wanted to apologize for how I treated you all those times. I know we’ll be going our different directions soon, and I wanted to make sure to thank you for all of your patience and kindness,” Cartman said quietly. It wasn’t all a lie.

Heidi looked touched. “Oh, Eric! That’s really sweet of you. We were just stupid kids then, and I know I acted selfish, too.”

Good, thought Cartman. She’s already taking some of the blame. 

“Well, the least I can do is take you to dinner. And it’s a chance to catch up with an old friend.” Cartman drawled out the word friend. 

It was a pleasant dinner. Cartman made sure to order the same thing as Heidi because he knew that would give them something to talk about. They discussed her college plans, and Cartman made sure to steer them away from his.

By the end of it, he walked her out to her mom’s car. 

“Hey, Eric?” Heidi asked shyly.

He hummed.

“Would you want to do this again soon?”

Cartman smiled. “Of course.”


	12. The One Where Bebe and Red Do It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason this sex scene and the ones following it make me bashful - they're pretty explicit, but I'm usually shameless.
> 
> The super hardcore smut things are separated by a .......... line.
> 
> We're close to the end!
> 
> The next one is a Craig-Tweek-Butters-Kyle/Kenny/Butters-Kenny section - where one of my favorite Creek scenes happen and Kenny/Butters are, um, good friends and try to cheer Kyle up. 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3 
> 
> *crawls into hole and dies*

Clyde looked around anxiously. He was always self-conscious about these visits. He thought if people saw him, they’d think he was crazy, but the graveyard was too creepy to visit at night.

In his arms he held a bouquet of cheap peach roses from the grocery store. Clyde thought they were pretty, though, and they looked striking against the gravestone.

“Hey, mom,” he whispered. The breeze felt good, with just a touch of spring even though it’d be awhile before it was warm.

“I wanted to stop by and talk to you one more time. I’ll come visit again, I promise, but not as often.” Clyde wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his letterman jacket. 

He may never know the true story. He certainly wouldn’t ever know if his mom forgave him. But Clyde realized it was well past time to let go. 

“I have college to look forward to.” Clyde smiled through the tears. “And basketball season. And hanging out with my friends. And spending time with dad. I can’t apologize to you for real, but I have to believe living and being happy is the only way to make it up to you now. I have my own life to live.”  
....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Sex with a girl felt different, Bebe thought, as Red kissed her. Besides the obvious points, it felt softer, and Bebe felt the need to be more gentle. 

Their naked bodies intertwined, Bebe reached down slowly and purposefully, placing her fingers at Red’s slit. She slipped her fingers in between, the feeling of wetness not her own turning her on.

Red gasped as Bebe’s fingers brushed against her clit, and Bebe quickly decided she wanted to hear more of that. Bebe felt like her nails were too long to finger Red, so she made it up to her in another way.

Dragging her tongue down from Red’s mouth to her nipples, she pushed her thighs apart. She wiggled herself down until her face was in between Red’s legs.

Her pussy was cute, Bebe thought, and oh yes, was she attracted to it. 

Delving in, she gently slid her tongue up against Red’s lips, earning a slight shudder. 

Bebe took that as an invitation and slowly started going deeper until she was swirling against Red’s clit.

Bebe wasn’t sure why men complained so much about eating girls out. Red smelled earthy and warm, and she tasted a little salty, but nothing extreme. 

Red’s moans were getting louder, her hair tangling in Bebe’s blue hair.

Bebe hoisted her up by her ass, burying her tongue into Red’s vagina. She tongue fucked her, feeling her own clit needing attention. 

She removed a hand from Red to get herself off, rubbing her own clit, feeling her fingers get wet. 

Red came with a high-pitched moan, her back arching. 

Bebe sat up straighter on her knees, in full display. She was getting off the fact Red could see her fully exposed, her flushed pussy so close to the end. 

Bebe came harder than she ever had and, exhausted, flopped next to Red on the bed. 

“Oh hell yeah.”

..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Token looked at his parents, his heart thumping. He knew there really was no reason to be nervous - there was nothing beyond concern and care in his parents’ faces.

“Token,” his dad said, leaning forward in his leather chair. “Your mother and I are just worried practicing medicine isn’t the path you want to take in life. Son, life is too short to do something you don’t want to do, and it’d kill your mother and me if you did something like that for our sakes.”

Token took a deep breath, reflecting on Nicole’s words. 

“I know your parents, Token. They love you, and you’ll be hurting them worse by going through with something you don’t want to more than if you just told them the truth.”

“Mom, dad,” Token sat up straight, making eye contact with them. “I want to be a librarian. I want to teach people how wonderful reading can be. Did you know 14% of Americans are illiterate?” hIs words came out in a rush, spilling over themselves. “I just think I can make a difference. And I know it’s not saving lives, but it’s… it’s something.”

There was a moment of silence. Token searched his parents’ faces as they looked at him wide-eyed. 

His mom got up and wrapped her arms around him, while his dad let out a hearty laugh.

“My sweet boy!” His mother kissed the top of his head. “Token, I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

Token let out a big sigh of relief.

“I’ll start researching the best schools for this today,” his father said with resolution. “My son will be the finest librarian there is.”

____________________________________________________________________________

“So, Jimmy, tell me your biggest strength.” The supervisor in a smart red tie and navy suit posed himself to write Jimmy’s answer on the clipboard.

“We-well, I try to l-l-look at the positive in ever-everything. I lo-love to work with people, and I ne-never give up.”

The man nodded, his pen scratching against the paper.

“And what would you say is your weakness?”

“So-sometimes I’m too con-confident.” Jimmy grinned, and the supervisor grinned back.

“Well, I’d say that’s my weakness as well, Jimmy.”

They spent the next half hour talking about school and Jimmy’s comedy. 

Suddenly, the man stood up and shook his hand.

“Well, Mr. Valmer, I’d like to go ahead and welcome you aboard.”

Jimmy felt elated and was so excited he almost forgot to thank him. As he made his way out of the building, he looked up at the sky as he was apt to do when he was happy.


	13. The One Where They All Make Questionable Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creek BDSM (ish) and a Kenny/Butters/Kyle threesome? I was on porn roll writing this. Anyway, the explicit stuff is marked off with "....." so if it's not your thing, you won't miss the characterization/plot point, whatever. 
> 
> This is the last Craig/Tweek/Kenny/Butters scene! In the future I'll probably write a short fic about the engagement, and I'll probably write about Kenny's quest.
> 
> But first a superhero AU.
> 
> The next is a Kyle/Stan/Wendy/Cartman section, where Stan and Kyle finally address the elephant in the room.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Please leave comments if you have any thoughts on this or future fics!

Craig liked to drive fast and loud, and for someone who very well should have been smart enough to know better, he had a habit of running stop signs. He may be Craig Tucker, now a fresh adult who got into fancy science programs and drew attention wherever he went with his good looks, but he was also still Craig Tucker, #1 troublemaker that gave no fucks. 

Tweek had more or less calmed him down as they had gotten older, but the unpredictable and distracting Tweek Tweak had a notorious wild streak himself. And sometimes they got a thrill out of being bad together. 

He looked over at Tweek, who was wearing oversized sunglasses despite dusk being well on its way. Tweek grinned, offering Craig a swig from the vodka bottle. 

“Should you be drinking on your meds?” Craig asked, half-concerned and half-teasing. 

Tweek shrugged and smiled at him dopily. “Who the fuck cares, man? I could only be so lucky,” he said darkly. Craig didn’t like how blaise Tweek got about his well-being when he was under the influence. “So what are we doing tonight?”

“Well, we have multiple options here. We can go clubbing in Denver.”

Tweek shook his head exaggeratingly and hummed his dissent. Craig looked at him smitten. Tweek was definitely already buzzed. “I don’t feel like crowds tonight. There’s too much pressure to dance. And clubs make us make bad decisions. Remember the last time, man?”

At the time, an underage Craig and Tweek had snuck into a Denver club, and long story short, some guy had gotten a little handsy with Tweek while Craig had ran to the bathroom. Craig beat the shit out of him, of course, outside of the club, and then he and Tweek had mind-blowing sex in one of the bathroom stalls afterwards, but it was not something he wanted to repeat. 

“Okay, well, then let’s drive and drive, and then find a spot somewhere, get blitzed, and watch the stars. How does that sound, babe?” 

“Perfect,” Tweek purred, lighting up a cigarette. Craig hated Tweek’s smoking habit, but he had to admit he looked kind of hot doing it. 

So that’s what they did. Craig drove for two hours outside of South Park, listening to ear-shatteringly loud music and Tweek singing along. He drove twenty-five miles over the speed limit, and usually Tweek would be a nervous mess at this, but he was too far enebriated to care. 

When Craig felt like he had enough casual drinks out of the vodka bottle to warrant him to stop driving, he pulled over into a park in some other shit hole mountain town. 

“Ohh, a playground,” Tweek drunkenly chirped. They got out of the car, and before Craig knew it, Tweek was bounding towards the swings in the darkness. 

Craig laughed. “You’re much less paranoid when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not less paranoid, dude. I just care a lot less.”

Craig sat on the swing next to him, beginning to remark on how that didn’t make sense when he felt the words disappitate. 

The moon lit Tweek up, and his hair and skin glowed. He was wearing one of Craig’s T-shirts - a black one with a skull that Craig had bought ironically but then decided it fit Tweek better - and the piercings in his cartilage gleamed. Tweek’s hair was pinned back from his face with triangle-shaped clips, and maybe he was wearing mascara? Craig couldn’t really tell, but his eyelashes looks suspiciously fuller and darker than usual. Either way, if there was a male version of a manic pixie dream girl, it would be him, and Craig was 100% here for it. 

Tweek grinned at him self-consciously. “What? What are you looking at?”

“You, babe,” Craig said, taking a swig of vodka in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. His insides felt warm, and he was getting that liquor head rush.  
...............................................................................................................................

“Hey, do you think you can get it up right now?”

Craig choked. “God damn it, Tweek.”

Tweek pounded him on the back.

“Yeah, I can get it up right now. I’m drunk, but I’m still horny as hell.” In fact, when Craig got the whiskey dick, he could last twice as longer than he usually did, leading to some pretty fantastic all night marathons. 

Tweek got up, walking backwards to one of the picnic tables. “Fuck me then.”

“Out in the open? What if someone sees?” Not that this idea wasn’t absolutely alluring to Craig, but he wasn’t keen on indecency charges.

“Then they’re some lucky son of bitches,” Tweek giggled. “I’m just kidding.” He splayed his arms open. “Who’s here to see us?”

This was true. This town was in the middle of nowhere, and this park was even more isolated. Craig got up, approaching Tweek, who was already sitting on top of the picnic table. 

“You’d probably like it if someone saw us,” Craig growled, too drunk to realize the potential fucked-up-ness of that comment. He placed himself in between Tweek’s legs, pressing his dick to the inside of his thigh. 

“That’d be hot, dude. Don’t even act like it wouldn’t. You wouldn’t ever like an audience while you fuck me relentlessly?” Tweek whispered boozily, palming Craig’s dick through his jeans. 

“You dirty, dirty exhibitionist,” Craig laughed, pushing Tweek back forcefully and forcing his arms above his head. “Maybe I should make some money off of you and tape this shit.”

Tweek shrugged with a lusty smile.

“No, no, absolutely not, Tweek Tweak. But maybe if we find someone we trust enough, I’ll let them watch us.” Craig roughly unbuttoned Tweek’s jeans and pulled them down. “I’ll never understand how you don’t wear underwear.”

“Gnomes take them, man. I’ve told you a million times.” Tweek hissed at his dick being exposed to the chilly night air. 

“Turn around,” Craig ordered, and smacked Tweek’s ass as he turned around on his stomach. Tweek whimpered. He pulled him down further on to the bench so his dick wasn’t touching anything. “Don’t fucking touch yourself. You don’t get to come until I do.”

“You’re an asshole,” Tweek protested, his voice thick. 

Craig answered with another slap to the ass. “Shut up.” It occurred to them there was a chance they were missing an important ingredient to all this. “Um, is there still lube in my car or did we use all that?”

“I thought you told me to shut up.” Craig ran his hands through Tweek’s hair and then pulled. “Shit, maybe? You better hope so. I’m not letting you go in dry.” They had tried that once, and it did not go well at all. 

“Fuck, the car is all the way over there,” Craig groaned, reluctant to leave the ass splayed in front of him sluttily. Then an idea dawned on him as he glanced at the umbrella pole in the middle of table. “You wanna be an exhibitionist, babe? What if I don’t give you an option?”

Before Tweek could ask what he meant, Craig whipped off his belt. He leaned over Tweek forcing him to stretch out his arms to the pole. Pretty deftly he knotted the belt around Tweek’s wrists and the pole. “I’m gonna go out to the car, and look for the lube. And then I might have one of your cigarettes.”

“Fuck yeah,” Tweek breathed. 

“You’re a kinky son of a bitch,” Craig called behind him, basking in the hazy look Tweek gave him. His ass was splayed in the wide open, and his face was flushed with sheer horniness and embarrassment.

Despite his insistence he’d take his time, Craig searched the car pretty quickly. Not only was he hard as a rock, he didn’t actually want Tweek tied up in the open like that for very long. He found it in the glove compartment, and as he closed the car door, he saw Tweek’s pack of cigarettes. Hell, he was drunk enough.

Craig leaned on the back of the car, taking slow drags. He resisted the urge to whip it out and start jacking it there right now at the thought of Tweek waiting for him back there. Tweek’s dick was probably already swollen and red, and Craig could imagine he was already starting to whine, biting his bottom lip and trying to rub his dick against the bench. 

At that thought, Craig threw his cigarette on the ground and smushed it out. He’d pick it up later.

“Look what I found!” he called, holding up the bottle as he walked up. True to imagination, Tweek was still tied there, looking desperate for him. 

“Shit, Craig, could you have taken any longer?” Tweek whimpered. 

“That’s the point,” Craig said, dryily. He grabbed Tweek’s ass, squeezing it and then smacking it hard enough to leave a red spot. 

“God damn it, Craig, just do it already,” Tweek begged, thrusting his hips pointlessly. 

“Mm, I’ll do it when I want to.” Craig got on his knees on the ground, and he traced Tweek’s hole with his fingers without penetrating him. He spat suddenly on it, his dick twitching at the little wiggle Tweek did at the strange feeling. Spreading his ass, Craig went for it, lazily dragging his tongue near his asshole, and then taking the plunge. Had Craig been completely sober, he would probably have not been keen on giving anyone a rim job, but hell, he already had Tweek tied up in public, he might as well go the full ten yards. 

“Holy shit, are you tongue fucking me?” Tweek gasped.

Craig responded by digging his tongue in further. His dick throbbed uncomfortably in his jeans, and he hastily dug it out from his pants. Ending it with a quick bite to the inside of his thigh, he stood up.

“Now listen, babe,” Craig said, slipping off his T-shirt. “I don’t think anyone is around to hear us, but I’m going to have to make sure you stay quiet just in case.” He leaned over, tracing Tweek’s face with is thumb. “Can I gag you?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re just supposed to do it without asking,” Tweek breathed good-naturedly. 

“Yeah, I know, but we’re both pretty drunk, and…” Craig trailed off, not really caring to explain. He balled up his T-shirt and pushed it into Tweek’s obediently opened mouth. 

He then dragged his dick against Tweek’s ass, still slick with his spit. Tweek swore at him, muffled. Craig pulled at his hair. “What’d you just call me?”

“Abastard,” Tweek groaned.

Craig slicked his dick up with the lube and positioned it, pausing to look at Tweek. His hair was messier than usual, his ass cheeks and face a matching shade of red. His eyes were half-lidded, and Craig was pretty sure at one point he had started crying in frustration. “You are so god damn hot,” Craig moaned, slipping into him, stopping halfway. 

Tweek cursed. 

“What if I just take my time instead of fucking you into oblivion like you want?”

Tweek said something in protest. 

“What was that? I can’t hear you.”

“Fuckmehard!” Tweek made some sort of high pitched noise, and his begging made Craig lose the last little bit of self-control. 

Craig pulled into his full hilt, connecting Tweek’s hips to his with his hands. Tweek squealed, and Craig threw his head back. It was warm, and the sheer pressure of his ass sucking in Craig’s dick was almost enough to finish him right there, whiskey dick or not.  
He started to pound him, Tweek’s muffled moans and Craig’s gasps mixing with the noise of the table moving underneath them. 

“Oh god, yes, Tweek,” Craig groaned, pushing Tweek’s head into the table. 

Craig could only imagine the way Tweek’s dick was throbbing. Maybe he’d come without touching, all over the ground and table. 

The thought inspired Craig to hitch up Tweek’s hips and make sure he hit that spot.

Tweek let out what Craig could only describe as a muffled scream. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come,” Craig moaned desperately. “I’m gonna come in you so you feel it all night.”

“Ohgodyes,” Tweek squealed. “Ohgodohgodohgod.” Tweek’s body convulsed so hard Craig could feel it through his ass. 

“Did you just come? I thought I told you not to until I came,” Craig said, almost too far gone to get the words out coherently. The fact he just made Tweek cream himself hands free with tears streaming down his face was just about his limit. 

Tweek twitched again, his face scrunched. “Are you still coming?” Craig asked incredously. Tweek whined in response. 

Craig threw his head back and came so hard he might’ve blacked out a little bit. His dick convulsed inside of Tweek in an earth-shattering orgasm that made him bite his bottom lip so hard he tasted blood. 

Panting, he slid his softening dick out, ungagging and untying Tweek. He kissed him sweetly. 

“Holy shit, Craig,” Tweek laughed, wiping the tears from his face. He definitely had been wearing mascara. “You fucked me into being sober.”

Craig reached over and brushed Tweek’s loose hair behind his ear. “Well, I think we should wait before going home just to be safe. Want to look at the stars? I can point out the different constellations again.”

Tweek smiled, and Craig felt his heart skip a beat. “I wouldn’t like anything better,” he said, taking Craig’s hand as they embarked towards the grassy spot.

____________________________________________________________________________

Tweek watched the dust motes float in the late morning’s sun’s rays. Craig’s TV mummered on the other side of the room - he always fell asleep with the TV on - and downstairs Tweek could hear Mr. Tucker unfolding the newspaper. The middle of his head pounded, and his ass was sore, but he was well aware he could feel much worse. 

Tweek turned his head to look at Craig. He was out cold, his heavy breathing comforting and familiar to Tweek. They had hung around the park until the early hours of the morning, and eventually made their way back to Craig’s house, where he had snuck in to spend the night. Both of them had clocked out almost immediately, and Tweek could have slept for another five hours, but he had trouble sleeping no matter how tired he was. 

He reached for his phone somewhere in the covers, eventually finding it halfway under his pillow. Tweek sighed at the black screen in front of him and attempted to reach over towards the outlet for the charger. 

It wasn’t there in it’s usual spot. Sitting up carefully, Tweek looked around the painstakingly neat bedroom and remembered Craig had gone on a cleaning spree the afternoon before. And knowing Craig as well as he did, he knew Craig had a place for everything.

Swinging his feet over the edge and tiptoeing over to Craig’s computer desk, his fingers brushed the different drawer handles. The top drawer held pens and paper, the middle drawer was his junk drawer, and - Tweek’s fingers stopped at the bottom one - this held all the chargers. 

He quickly and quietly opened it. Among the neat bundles was the phone charger, and as Tweek picked it up, he noticed the black box underneath it. It was small and worn, and Tweek recognized it as a ring box.

Curious, he opened it. Inside was a silver diamond ring, obviously designed in an older style, but well taken care of and elegant. And Tweek knew he had seen it before. He had gotten to meet Craig’s beloved grandmother before she passed and had seen the ring on her knobby finger. 

He knew Craig’s dad had received it and had told him one day it would be his when he was ready, so why did he have it now?

It hit Tweek like a train, and he audibly gasped, and then froze. Craig stirred but remained asleep. Numbly, Tweek tucked it and the charger back into the drawer with shaky hands.

He wandered to the bed, forgetting to tiptoe and climbed in, pressing himself into Craig’s warmth.

Craig was going to ask him to marry him. Suddenly Tweek felt like he couldn't breath, suffocated by panic and elation. 

He wanted to marry him, without a doubt, but Tweek felt like right now was awfully early. What if college changed them? They were only 18 - barely past being children. 

Tweek settled on the thought engagements didn’t have time limits. Hopefully Craig would be okay with that. Grinning widely, Tweek kissed the tip of Craig’s nose, and he opened his eyes slowly.

“What’s so funny?” Craig muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

“Oh, nothing,” Tweek mused, brushing hair out of his eyes. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

___________________________________________________________________________

Butters sighed falteringly, his feet tucked under him as he sat on the bench at Stark’s Pond. In his hand he held a piece of paper, damp with his tears. 

In Kenny’s scrawled handwriting read : I’ll be back from the dead. Don’t worry. Yours forever, Ken

The ink was already dissolving and becoming unreadable.

Butters had to trust it - he had to. Kenny currently laid on the side of the road, his insides strown amongst the bushes. Butters had thrown up and then collapsed. He called 911, talked to the operator, everything, but no one had come. 

Fortunately, with pulling his phone out of his blue jacket pocket, he pulled out the piece of paper, folded neatly.

Kenny must have put it in there this morning. 

Butters couldn’t tune out the message on repeat in his head. Kenny was dead and would remain dead. His love was gone forever, in a million pieces across the road, his face unrecognizable amongst the carnage. 

Butters sounded like a wounded animal as he sobbed, thankful for the privacy of the pond. The sun was setting - it had been several hours since it had happened. Butters face felt raw, and at this point, no actual tears were falling from his eyes.

How long would it take, if this whole thing was true?

He closed his eyes, visions of Kenny’s demise haunting him. He was so overcome with this when he felt the hand on his shoulder, he screamed. 

Kenny caressed his face. “Baby, I told you I’d be back.”

Butters started to sob again, grabbing and squeezing every part of Kenny’s body. Kenny looked pale and tired - and the tips of his fingers were blue - but he was unmarked and breathing. 

“You’re not real. You can’t be.” Butters shook his head and kissed Kenny despite his words. His lips tasted like iron. 

Kenny returned the kiss and embraced Butters. “I am very much real and alive. You don’t remember, but we’ve talked about this. Multiple times. All those times I pulled away from you suddenly was because I was terrified of well, this exact situation.” Kenny brushed the tears from Butters’s face. “But now I realize you’re strong enough to handle this. Were you able to read the note?”

Butters nodded, still in shock. 

“Really?” Kenny exclaimed like it was the craziest thing he had experienced all day. “Usually notes - any attempt to remind others of the curse, really - don’t work.”

Butters shrugged, still very much not able to say words at that moment. 

“Maybe the curse is no match for us,” Kenny whispered, kissing the top of Butters head. He was shaking, and the thought of Butters being tortured by hours because of his death made him sick, but he felt a hope he hadn’t felt before. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Butters covered his face cutely, the blush spreading across his entire face. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I mean, probably not, but it’ll pull him out of this funk, right?” Kenny shrugged, grinning, closing the fridge door. “If you’re not okay with this, we can abandon mission, and I’ll never suggest it again, I promise.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I mean… it’s a crazy idea, but it’ll be fun.” Butters uncovered his face and watched Kenny inexplicably open the fridge door back up. “Right? Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve watched you open and close the fridge door three times now.”

Kenny laughed loudly. “Yeah, I’m just… nervous.” Kenny may be full of bravado, but a threesome with him and his long time best friend was a bit overwhelming, even for him.

“That’s really cute,” Butters giggled, reaching to lace his fingers in Kenny’s.

“What’s really cute?” Kyle asked suspiciously, entering the kitchen after realizing the two had been in there for ten minutes. 

“Hey, Kyle, wanna fuck?” Kenny blurted.

“Kenny!!” Butters exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. 

Kyle crossed his arms, his eyes wide and face red. “Um.. what?”

“Oh come on, Kyle. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?” Kenny said, quickly deciding he was already in too deep to pass it as a joke. 

Kyle and Butters weren’t helping any of this, staring at Kenny, both rather shocked into stillness. 

Kenny shot Butters a look, who cleared his throat, causing Kyle to look at him. The air between the three of them in the kitchen was heavy with… something when Karen and Tricia walked in.

They both stopped in the doorway. “Hey, guys… what’s going on?”

“I thought you were spending the night at Tricia’s house,” Kenny said abruptly. He was pretty sure even he was blushing at this point. 

“We are,” Karen slowly said, cautiously crossing the room to grab a book off the counter. “I forgot my math book.”

“Men are fucking weird,” they heard Tricia say with a slam of the front door. 

Kenny took a deep sigh. “We’re not getting anywhere with this.”

Still looking rather shocked and eyes not leaving Kenny’s face, Kyle moved towards Butters almost comically slow. 

Butters tentatively reached out towards him in confusion and caution. 

“You two are ridiculous. Come on,” Kenny groaned, grabbing both by the hand and leading them to his bedroom.

...................................................................................................................

He pushed Kyle onto the bed gently. “You’re okay with this?”

Kyle shrugged. “Maybe?”

“Well, if you want to stop, just let us know. We’ll stop,” Kenny said. The gentleness in his tone caused Kyle to look up. 

He reached up to grasp Kenny’s tan face and kissed him. He pulled away, blinking rapidly. Kenny grinned as Kyle reached over to Butters next to him on the bed and pulled him into a kiss. 

Joining them on the bed, Kenny watched them make out, pretty sure it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

Butters reached over to pull Kenny into their own heated kiss, undoing Kyle’s belt at the same time. 

“You’re really good at this,” Kenny breathed. 

Butters laughed, liking the feeling of Kyle writhing under him at his touch. Kyle gasped when Butters tugged his underwear down, and Kenny reached down to stroke him. 

“You still okay?” Kyle was lying on the bed, sandwiched between them, his head tilted and eyes closed as Kenny jacked him off. He looked more than okay, but Kenny didn’t want to make any assumptions. 

Kyle nodded, looking up at him hazily.

“Take off your clothes,” Kenny ordered Butters, kissing him quickly and sweetly. 

“Bossy,” Butters teased, shimmying out of his clothes clumsily. Kenny traced his thick hips with his fingertips, pulling his hips closer to Kyle’s. Digging his hands into the top of Butters’s hair, he gently pushed Butters into making out with Kyle again. 

Taking both of their dicks in his hand as best as he could, he jacked them off simutaneously. They both moaned at the friction of Kenny’s hand and each other’s dicks rubbing against each other. 

“Fuck,” Kyle breathed, pulling away suddenly. He sat up, leaning over to kiss Kenny while Kenny de-clothed him. 

Butters whispered something in Kyle’s ear, and he nodded, letting Butters knot his fingers in his hair.  
He guided Kyle’s head down, and Kyle enthusiastically, if not a little messily, started sucking Kenny’s dick, his inexperienced mouth grasping at the feeling of having it in between his lips. Butters leaned in and whispered something else, and Kenny threw his head back with a moan as Kyle started mouthing at his balls. 

Quickly pulling Kyle’s head away when he was pretty sure this whole thing was about to end too quickly, Kenny cleared his throat. “So, uh, gentleman, how are we going to do this exactly?”

“There is no chance I’m taking two dicks up the ass tonight,” Kyle said with a sudden and humorous determidness. 

“That may be a little overwhelming for him right away,” Butters laughed. 

Kenny mock-groaned. “Ugh, alright. Well, Butters get ready.”

“What?” Butters yelped. “Bud, if I’m taking two dicks up it, I’m gonna have to have some prior warning.”

“Oh my god, okay, well, we could pull a train, but that never works out like it does in porn. Anyway,” Kyle made a stair-step motion with his hand. “There’s a lot of height difference in this equation. He narrowed his eyes in thought. “Oh! Well, guess I’m gonna have to take one for the team.”

“You act like it’s such a bad thing,” Butters chided. “Okay, well, tell us the big plan.”

“Here,” Kenny said, leaning over to grab Butters’s hands. “You help him, uh, out. Or in, I guess.”

“Gee,” Butters breathed, maybe hornily, maybe sarcastically. 

Pulling the lube out of Kenny’s drawer, he grabbed Kyle’s waist. “You seem so tense! Relax. You’ve done this with girls, right?” Butters brought his face close to Kyle’s, his words between them like air. 

Kyle nodded and then gasped at the sensation of Butters beginning to slick him up. “Go slow at first, okay? It’s going to be a lot tighter than a girl would be, so you have to take your time.” He nuzzled Kyle’s neck. “You ready?”

Kyle nodded, looking as if he was between laughing hysterically or having a panic attack. 

“Are you sure, baby?” Kenny asked, arching up from all fours to kiss Kyle quickly.

Kyle nodded again, blushing at the name. 

Butters led him to the other end of the bed - really, this was all quite a feat in Kenny’s tiny ass bed - and stroked his thumb over Kenny’s ass. 

“So Kenny doesn’t usually take it up the ass a lot, so it’s going to take a second for him to loosen up.” With a sudden movement, he inserted one of his fingers, causing Kenny to make some sort of indistinguishable noise. The look on Butters face reminded Kyle of when he used to play “Professor Chaos”, and Kyle felt a weird awe at Butters’s shift in personality. 

“And then if you move a little to the left - nope, not there -” Kenny threw back his head and gasped, bucking his ass up against Butters. “If you hit that, he does … that.” Butters stroked Kenny’s prostate again, grinning at the way he whined. 

Butters got tired of playing around and giving Kyle’s dick a couple of more strokes, aligned him to Kenny’s hole. 

Kyle gulped, the tip resting at the entrance. With great caution, he slipped only an inch. “Oh shit,” he breathed. 

“Come on, you can go a little further in,” Butters said, pushing the small of Kyle’s back. 

Kyle sunk in a little more, and after what felt like hours, he was in full hilt, Kenny’s breathing getting heavier. “You kind of have a big dick for a small guy,” Kenny half-laughed and half-rasped.

Kyle, feeling a little more confident, hesitantly thrusted. Kenny moaned. 

“You can do it harder. He’ll adjust,” Butters breathed, nipping at Kyle’s ear. Kyle thrusted harder, at a steady tempo. 

“Oh fuck yes, Kyle,” Kenny moaned, and Kyle leaned over flush with his back, mouthing at Kenny’s shoulder, grunting. 

Butters moved over to face Kenny, sticking his dick into his mouth. 

“Harder,” Kenny gasped around Butters dick. 

Kyle shuddered, thrusting hard enough to make Kenny choke on Butters’s cock. Butters tilted himself forward, raising Kyle up to kiss him. 

“I think I’m gonna come already,” Kyle whined between kisses. 

“Come for us, baby,” Butters moaned, digging his fingers in Kenny’s hair and throwing his head back.  
“It’s so tight, holy shit,” Kyle breathed, clawing at Butters’s shoulders. He kissed him heavily and wetly, their tongues clashing, both too lost in the sensations to be graceful. His body tensed up, and Butters heard Kenny gasp as Kyle’s dick twitched in him. 

The guttural noise he made caused Butters to hitch his own hips into Kenny’s mouth, and with a thrust, Butters finished, his cum filling Kenny’s mouth and down his face. 

Both boys pulled out, and Kenny whined, his neglected erection dripping precum. 

“Wanna blow him together?” Kyle asked heavily, past the point of being self-conscious. 

Butters giggled and, after Kenny flipped himself over, drug his tongue up his dick with Kyle’s, simultaneously making out and stimulating Kenny’s dick.

“Oh fuck, this was a fucking fantastic idea,” Kenny growled, shooting hot cum over both their faces. 

After all was said and done, all three laid at different angles on top of the sweaty bed, catching their breaths. 

“.... Thanks?” Kyle said hesitantly into the silence. 

“Anytime, bud,” Kenny laughed, not stopping until Butters punched him weakly in the stomach.

____________________________________________________________________________

“August.”

“No. That’s too late.”

Kenny had never really seen Butters so determinate, but there was something immovable about him at the moment.

“I don’t leave for New York until August. If you’re going to leave at the beginning of the summer, I’m going with you.” Butters attempt at intimidation was marred by the way he wrung his hands over the dark, worn copy of the Necronomicon Henrietta had lent him, splayed on his lap. 

Kenny sighed, looking over the rippling surface of Stark’s Pond. He fought the urge to drown himself in it to avoid this conversation. “Baby, I already told you. It’s too dangerous.”

“What if he kills you? For good? What if I never hear from you again?” A cloud passed over Butters face, and Kenny felt his defenses drop.

His hesitation spurred Butters on. “Come on, if we leave the day after graduation,” Butters said, using his fingers to do the math. “We’ll have two and a half months to do this.”

“To infiltrate an interdimensional, evil creature’s cult and kill him? What if I fail, Butters? What if he comes after you?”

Butters grabbed Kenny’s face, and it was Kenny’s turn to be surprised at the dark intensity in his voice. “I won’t let him kill you, if it’s the last thing I do on this earth.”

Kenny sighed, and his eyes inexplicably filled with tears. “Okay, Butterscup. If that’s what you really want. But you have to listen to me the whole time, okay?” He kissed Butters quickly, hating and loving the way his face lit back up.

“Oh, Kenny,” Butters giggled. “I love you.”


	14. The One Where Cartman Grows Up a Little

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after I finish my AU stuff, I think I'll write a thing about Kyle figuring out his psychic stuff and delve into more Style ;) 
> 
> Cartman finally figures out his bullshit, whoop whoop!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3

Kyle sunk into himself. “So, you wanted to talk about something?” he asked shortly, avoiding Stan’s eyes. They had both acted like nothing had ever happened, but now that they were addressing the elephant in the room, Kyle felt his defenses rise. He didn’t bother to sit down on Stan’s couch, forcing Stan to stand up. “Am I the next stop on your redemption tour?”

Stan sighed, reaching out to Kyle and then thinking better of it. “Kyle, I know how you feel about me. I’ve known about how you feel for a long time now. I’m sorry I led you on, I never-”

“Oh god,” Kyle groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No, you’re not. Don’t say things like that. I love you-”

“But you’re not in love with me?”

Stan was silent for a second. “Listen, I know I’ve been a shit. I know my drinking has gotten way out of control. And honestly, I think this is a disease I’ll fight forever. I’m sorry for everything. You have been nothing but kind and caring and wonderful, so wonderful, and I’ve taken it all for granted.”

“You could say that,” huffed Kyle.

“And I’m sorry for kissing you. It was confusing - that wasn’t the way to make anything up to you. It was a mistake.”

Kyle felt like he had been punched in the stomach. “A mistake, huh?” he said in almost a whisper. 

“That’s not what I meant. Listen, Kyle, I can’t be who you need. I don’t know how I feel about all this - if I’m even capable of thinking of you sexually - but I do know right now would be an awful fucking time to figure that all out, dude,” Stan gently said, walking closer to Kyle, who instinctively turned away. “But, if I promise to fight this with all I’ve got, will you stay my super best friend?”

The question touched Kyle, and he sighed, closing his eyes. “Fine. Fine. I’m okay with that, I think.” He felt a deep, nagging sorrow, but an overlay of hope. 

His tryst with Butters and Kenny was just a romp, but it was also a good reminder he could connect with other people. He had made it through the tragedy of Leslie and the mess with Heidi. Kyle had bounced back plenty of other times, so he could do it again, couldn’t he?

This was different, of course, he reminded himself, as he looked into Stan’s earnest eyes, but losing him wasn’t an option. 

“Just promise me you’ll make an actual effort,” Kyle said, and Stan threw him into a big bear hug.

“I promise.” 

Kyle closed his eyes, once again breathing in the scent of him in such a close proximity. Maybe this wasn’t the worst outcome. 

__________________________________________________________________________

Stan had felt his entire life like his living room table was too long. At one time there had been five of them - three now that Shelly was living in Denver and grandpa had died - and even then it seemed entirely too big. 

However, at this moment, it seemed too small. His mother sat on the left and his father on the right. Pamphlets covered the tabletop, “AA” and “alcoholism and you” emblazoned on them.

Stan had put them there after calling them in for a family meeting, as both proof and a start to a conversation he felt incapable of having. 

Both his parents were well-meaning - they always had been - but they lacked any common sense whatsoever. This left Stan with a continuous hesitancy to talk about anything deep with them. 

He was surprised when Randy put a hand on his arm. “I know I haven’t been the best role model,” he said, and Stan thought for a moment they were going to have a real moment together. “I should have sat your mom down about her wine problem long ago.”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose as his mom exclaimed a “Randy!”

“That’s beyond the point, dad. What I’m saying is that I’m sorry, and I’m gonna enroll in one of these programs this summer.” 

“And then what after that?” his mom asked gently.

“Well, you know Uncle Jimbo has a connection in the Colorado State animal control, and I thought about that. But first, I really want to get this under control.” Stan sighed with resolution. 

He had slipped the night before, the talk with Wendy making him want to see the bottom of the bottle. Not that it went particularly bad - she just seemed… indifferent. 

Stan knew this wouldn’t be easy.

His phone vibrated, and he shimmied it out of his pocket. 

From: Kenny

Hey man, everyone is meeting at the bowling alley at 6. You wanna come?

Stan smiled. He didn’t have to do it alone. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Wendy could tell everyone was surprised at her appearance. She had opted for joggers and a T-shirt, and while she had still pulled her hair in a sleek ponytail and put on a little blush, Wendy looked decidedly ungirly. 

“So you’re not going to school?” Kyle asked over the sounds of rolling bowling bowls and the 80’s greatest hits. 

“I am, just not in the fall. I’m gonna take a break. My aunt lives up in Toronto, so I thought I’d spend some time there.”

“Are you sure this is the best idea? Like, won’t this affect your resume or whatever?” Token asked, tightening his shoelaces. 

“I’m 18. The school will be there when I’m ready. Besides, there’s stuff I can do in Toronto.”

“Well, I think it’s a fantastic idea. No need to rush, I guess. I’m happy for you, Wendy,” Butters said, eyes trained on Kenny rolling the ball.

“Aw, thanks, Butters.” Wendy put a hand on her heart. She watched Kenny roll a strike. “I’m really looking forward to a break.”

____________________________________________________________________________

“You are… despicable!” Heidi shouted, her eyes full of angry tears. “I can’t believe it!”

“Heidi, please, you’re making a scene,” Cartman said flippantly. “I didn’t force you to do anything. Everything you did was on your own choice.” He hoped his words masked the curious feeling he had in the pit of his stomach.

“I thought you had changed!” Heidi shouted, causing everyone to turn and look at her. She turned around and marched off, going back into the school with a slam of the metal doors.

“Cartman, what did you do?” Kyle huffed, throwing his shit into his car.

“Dude, for one, he told everyone he fucked her.” Kyle flinched at Stan’s bluntness. “Did you even actually sleep with her?”

“Yes, dumbass, we did. That’s the brilliance of this whole thing. I just had to prove something to myself,” Cartman gloated, still shoving that foreign feeling down. He felt like he had done something wrong, but what did it matter? He got what he wanted in the end.

“Which was?” Kyle asked, irked at Cartman’ odd pause. 

“To prove that I can convince anyone of anything,” he said simply. “While you assholes are wasting your time in school or… whatever it is you’re doing, Kenny, I’m going to get rich selling cars.”

His three friends stared at him, their faces in utter disbelief. “Wait, what?” they said in various choruses, all of their words of protests running over each other.

“Th-that… You acted like you cared about Heidi so that she would sleep with you, told everyone… all for bragging rights? This doesn’t make any sense, Cartman.” Kyle shook his head in confusion. 

Cartman felt his face tingle with embarrassment.

“No, it doesn’t make sense at all.” Kenny narrowed his eyes. 

Cartman knew completely why he had done it, but the thought of caring - actually, caring - for someone was terrifying to him. Especially someone like Heidi, who he had a habit of hurting over and over. 

“Ugh, whatever. Can we please go?” Stan groaned, getting into Kyle’s car without waiting for the answer.

Cartman looked back at the school. “Hey, guys - I think I left something in my locker. I’ll be catch up with you guys later.”

Empty schools always gave Cartman the heebie jeebies, but he took his time, mulling over all the little things he knew about Heidi to find her.

She didn’t have her car, and he hadn’t seen her mom in the parking lot, so she was more than likely still here. 

It dawned on him as he climbed the stairs, and he made his way to the library.

There she was, hidden in between two bookcases, her face buried in her knees.

“Hey,” Cartman said, suddenly realizing he had not thought any of this out whatsoever. 

The look Heidi gave him was withering. “Go away! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

Heidi looked taken aback before shaking her head. “No, Cartman, no. I’m sorry, I don’t accept your apology.”

Cartman sighed, too involved in his feelings of remorse to worry about hiding his defeat. 

“Okay, I just wanted you to know.” With that, Cartman turned around to go home.


	15. The One Where They Graduate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to do a Clyde-Bebe-Token-Jimmy section, but I realized they were all more or less wrapped up.
> 
> I was also going to wait to upload the final chapter, but I've already started on the next story, so I'm impatient :)
> 
> Thanks for reading this whole thing. I hope everyone enjoyed - and will enjoy- it!!

“God, I hate this stupid fucking hat,” Tweek complained, pulling down on it and swatting at the tassel like a cat.

“Will you stop?” Craig grabbed his hand.

Tweek had been a nervous wreck that entire week, and it worked in their favor “Tweak” and “Tucker” were next to each other alphabetically. But this monumental life event seemed to have even Craig riled up, and he twirled his honor cords like he did the strings of his hat. 

“Oh my god, Cartman, I will end you right here on this stage,” Token said, the smile on his face ruining his attempt at a menacing tone. 

“Give ‘em hell, Toke!” Clyde roared from the end of the row. Clyde was always the one who got too boisterous at these kinds of things, and the kids sitting around him seemed exasperated. 

Kyle and Wendy sat next to each other at the front of the stage, going over their valedictorian and salutatorian speeches. Kyle reached in his robes to text Stan, while Wendy took off her hat to run a hand through her new pixie cut. 

Stan and Kenny were sat next to each other, both turned around and animatedly talking to Butters and Bebe behind them. 

“He-, hey, Craig, Tweek,” Jimmy called from a couple of seats down. “Gu-guess what I found out this morning?”

“What?” Tweek was really going at it with the nail biting, and Craig pushed his hand down without looking at him. 

“I-I got the job!” Jimmy grinned triumphantly. 

“Right on!” Craig exclaimed, flashing one of his rare smiles.

Up front, Kyle shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He was picking up the energy on stage, and it made it hard for him to keep still. It was positive, of course, but there was a tinge of sadness and nostalgia. He realized, looking around, he had known most of these people his entire life. 

His eyes met Stan’s, and he blushed, realizing he had been watching him. He gave Kyle a look - his are-you-okay? look. Kyle shrugged, breaking eye contact.

The lights in the audience dimmed, and a hush fell over the entire auditorium. Mr. Mackey, the guest of honor chosen by the graduating year’s class, approached the podium. “I’ve watched these kids grow up over the years, m’kay, and become the interesting and intelligent adults they are. Tonight it’s my privilege - and delight, m’kay - to introduce you to some friends of mine.”


End file.
